The Vessel 1

Morgan Adams came to the village with nothing but a canvas satchel full of scraps of fabric and some spices. The rest of the population didn't exactly welcome her; most eyed her suspiciously, while others shunned her completely. The fact that Morgan was a young, beautiful woman who lived by herself and had no real suitors prompted this suspicion. Some hoped that, at the very least, she was a young widow still in mourning, but as the months passed, it became evident that she did not intend to court any of the young men of the village. The eyebrows began to rise again. She became a joke on market days, when she brought her dried herbs and spices to sell. The young men of the village would try to strike up conversations with her; they made bets as to which of them could seduce her into speaking. She usually watched them placidly without buying into their games. She seemed detached from their taunting; they were not very subtle in their plans, and she knew they were not truly interested in her.

One man who seemed different, though. He did not partake of the pastimes of his fellows. Instead, he stood away, a book in his hand. He watched her with some degree of concern when the foppish boys mockingly bowed to her, tipped their hats, and puckered their lips. Obviously, his peers did not accept him, and rather than finding the woman an object of derision, he was, oddly and much to his own concern, attracted to her.

When his parents found out, they blamed this on his melancholia and his introverted intelligence. It was true that he did little, preferring to read over helping his father in the fields. He hadn't found a girl to bear his children. He hadn't decided on an occupation. All he did was order books from the City and read them voraciously. The elders had offered him the opportunity to teach at the school, but he lasted only a few weeks at it, hating the fact that some outside force scheduled his day.

On one market day, the other young men treated him with the same derision that they treated the woman.

"Go talk to her, Edwin. You two are perfect for each other, the witch and the dreamer," one of them scoffed. Edwin tilted his head and looked at the other man, unconcerned with his comments.

"Yes, I'd like to see that," another boy laughed. "Maybe we should give them a hand." The others took the hint and grabbed Edwin by the arms, dragging him across the square to where the mysterious woman sat by her baskets of herbs. They threw him into the dirt in front of her, standing around him in a half circle so he could not break away. He stood and dusted himself off then tried to exit the group, but the other boys forcibly blocked his way each time he tried to leave.

Eventually, he gave up and stood there, panting and dusty, in front of the strange beauty of the weird woman. "Talk to her," the boys hissed around him, pushing him closer to the girl. She eyed him coolly through a curtain of long, red hair; he could not tell if she recognized that they were both victims in the farce or if she blamed him for playing along.

"I fear these boys are in league with some devil, lady," he finally stated calmly to the woman. "They act as if possessed, having no respect for decorum or proper introduction. I am Edwin Bartly, ever at your disposal." Edwin dipped a slight bow to the woman. She nodded her head in return.

"It is good to see some salvage of civilization in this town, Master Edwin," she replied. "These men resemble more the beast of the earth than fallen angels."

It was the first time most of them had heard her speak, except for muttered numbers when selling her wares. Her voice was smooth and lyric, carrying a lilt to it that reminded Edwin of how the heroines in his books from Europe must sound.

At that, the mystery now over, the boys wandered off to find other sport, realizing that they had, in turn, become objects of derision in the eyes of the two oddities. Edwin still stood in front of Morgan, his book clutched in his sweating palms. "What is it you read, Master Edwin?" Morgan asked, her green eyes bright.

"Spencer's Fairy Queen. Are you familiar with it?"

"I'm afraid I've not been taught to read," Morgan admitted.

"I could teach you," Edwin replied.

#

Edwin ran his warm palms across her back and down to Morgan's breasts, stroking their taught tips with the soft ends of his index and middle fingers. "A says 'ah' or 'ay' or 'aaa' like in 'cat,'" he breathed in her ear. The book sat splayed open on the bed underneath her and, while Edwin nipped at the back of her neck and fondled her breasts, she feigned concentration on the text. She repeated the sounds he made, some stretched out in sighs of pleasure. She could feel his cock growing hard against her bare ass. Morgan smiled to herself. Though he was on top of her, she was the one in control. It had been too easy to get him to compromise himself to this point. She knew the rest of her plans would be as easy to carry out.

The two fucked on her narrow bed in the small cottage on the edge of town, Edwin slipping in and out of Morgan's tight cunt, his head lifted to the rafters, seeming to thank some unknown god for his fortune. An extravagant amount of candles lit the small room. Edwin had told her did not know how she could afford such a stash. Morgan stared at the book on the bed, laid out between her hands that clutched at the quilt. She had lied to Edwin about not being able to read, but it was the perfect scheme to get him to come to her.

Edwin came hard as Morgan's mind drifted. Like most men she knew, he did not care if she herself gained any satisfaction from the coupling. He threw himself off her and onto the bed. Morgan turned over and looked at her lover. "I am not satisfied."

"What?" Edwin glanced towards her.

"You have left your woman wanting, Edwin," she tried to explain gently, not sure if his seeming lack of understanding amused or frustrated her.

"Wanting? I can't again... How would I...?" Edwin stammered, his member limp and shrunk between his legs.

"There are other things you can use," she suggested firmly. She could tell Edwin lacked experience with women. She had not asked him how many partners he had had, but she figured most of what he knew came from the books he read.

"Other... things?" Edwin stammered. Morgan nodded as she raised a finger to his lips and tapped them suggestively. "Yes, love, a tongue, a finger... two fingers." She leaned over onto her back and stretched, cat-like, on the bed. "Now, you are wasting time. The longer you wait, the harder it will be." Edwin, seeming reluctant, reached a hand down to the dark, auburn patch of hair between Morgan's legs. He slid a finger between her swollen lips and brushed her clitoris.

"That's it, love, there," Morgan hissed at him, pleased that he had found the spot so easily. "Now, gently, my love, gently." Edwin skimmed his finger back and forth against Morgan's clit, causing her to moan. She was wet, their mingled juices anointing her thighs. Edwin watched; Morgan knew her reactions to his ministrations amazed him.

As a test, he slipped a finger into the place where his cock had been. Morgan gasped, clutching a fistful of quilt in her hands. "Oh, yes," she sighed. "Deeper, and another." Edwin slipped another finger in, and moved them slowly in and out, his thumb playing over the button of her clit. Morgan writhed, her eyes half closed, profane words leaving her lips as she smiled in pleasure.

"All the devils in hell, yes!" Morgan screamed as she came, bucking her hips against Edwin's hand, dripping her essence on the quilt beneath her. Her head was thrown back, a hand clutching to the headboard.

"I have never seen the likes of it," Edwin breathed. "Though, when younger, I did inadvertently witness my parents during intercourse on a few occasions. My mother had almost always lain beneath my father. The idea that women could enjoy it this much as was beyond my ken."

Morgan looked at him. Always the scholar. She finally relaxed onto the bed, her breath slowing, her eyes closed. "It's late," Morgan whispered. "You should go home. Next time you come, bring me a gift." She turned away from Edwin. She didn't say another word as he left the cottage.

#

The next evening, Edwin returned, bringing with him what he apparently thought was a good gift. He had a length of scarlet ribbon for his love and a small book of poetry to read to her. He knocked on the door of her cottage, and she opened it wide for him.

"What did you bring me?" she demanded almost immediately, a playful smile on her face.

"Here," Edwin gave her the ribbon. She looked at it distastefully.

"This is no offering. Bring me a bird or a rabbit." At that, Morgan slammed the door in his face. Edwin was confused but headed back toward town, this new information in his head.

He returned the next night with a small sparrow in a reed cage. Morgan took it in her hands, cooing to it as she gazed through the bars. She seemed more pleased with it than she had her other gift and drew Edwin into the house, closing the door behind them.

Morgan placed the bird on the table and sat Edwin down in a chair. She kneeled before him, undoing the ties of his breeches and reaching in to draw out his swelling cock. She stroked it a few times, languidly, before lowering her head and wrapping her lips around the shaft. Edwin gasped as he stared at the top of her head, his hands hanging limp at his sides. Morgan tripped her tongue up and down his throbbing prick, circling it around the tip before taking the whole length in her mouth again. She did this several times, one hand clutching the back of the chair, the other hand gently pulling and massaging his balls. Edwin's hands moved up to grasp the edges of his seat, his knuckles turning white as Morgan licked and sucked him to ecstasy. He'd never had a woman's mouth on his cock before, didn't know they actually did that. Morgan brought him to climax, hot cum streaming into her mouth, which she ungraciously spat on the dirt floor of the cottage. Without giving him second to recover, she did up his trousers, pulled him out of the chair, and led him to the door.

"Tomorrow, something bigger," she said, swatting him on the ass before shoving him out into the night and closing the door behind him.

#

Morgan went back to the table and played with her little bird for a while, a broad smile on her face. This man, she hoped, would prove to be the provider she needed.

Late the next afternoon, Morgan went into the woods by her house collect wild herbs. She heard someone calling her name and saw Edwin making his way through the gloomy trees. In his arms, he cradled a large, fluffy, gray cat. The cat seemed to be perfectly content and mostly asleep. Morgan was very pleased with that gift. When Edwin finally saw her, he smiled and moved in her direction.

"Oh, he's lovely, Edwin," Morgan took the cat in her arms and squeezed it. "He's just perfect!" She put the still-sleeping cat in her basket and took Edwin by the hands. "You are such a good boy," she said, rising up on tiptoe to kiss him hard on the lips. There, in the darkening woods, she pulled him down to the mossy clearing and laid him on his back. Again, she deftly undid the laces of his breaches and revealed his cock to the quickly chilling air. She moved her hand up and down the shaft of his penis, bringing warmth with her touch. Even though Edwin's head had to lie against a rock, and sticks and pebbles must have dug into his back, he released a blissful sigh.

Morgan looked at him, thrilled at how much he was under her control, knowing more surely by the day that he would be the one able to help her. Tomorrow, he would have another test, then, on the night of the full moon, Morgan would take from him what she needed. The very thought of it turned her on, and she let go of the shaft, swung a leg over Edwin's prone body, shifted her skirts around, and lowered herself down onto Edwin's hot cock. He gasped below her as she took him in. She undid the laces of her bodice while she sat astride him, then pulled down the edge of her blouse so her nipples were exposed to the cool air. They immediately became erect, straining.

Morgan brought her hands up, running their soft palms across her breasts and throwing her head back in an animalistic groan to the sky. She moved her hips, grinding against Edwin, whose hands had come up to clutch at her knees at his sides. He tried to thrust up into her, but she resisted all his attempts to control the coupling; Edwin was at Morgan's mercy. This time, he would have to sit and watch her pleasure herself on his aching cock before he would be allowed to come.

Morgan's eyes watched the stars as she rode the man beneath her. He became little more to her than a tool, a living, breathing dildo, and she knew she had to maintain that detachment. The feel of the prick inside her, her clitoris rubbing against its base, her hands playing and plucking at her nipples...

The force in her womb grew and spasms of pleasure radiated out, through her belly, thighs, down to the tips of her toes. Morgan cried out as she came, and a few roosting birds above her head cawed in return before fussily taking wing. She collapsed down on top of Edwin, her breasts pressing against his chest, his still-hard cock deep inside her. Her eyes were open but she did not see anything clearly.

Morgan felt Edwin try to position himself so he could move inside her, bring himself to climax, but she had become as so much dead weight. He rolled her over onto her back, and she roused slightly as he pushed her skirts up to her thighs and kneeled between her legs.

"Tat for tit, love," he said as he leaned over her, taking one of her nipples in his teeth and wrapping his hands around her buttocks, pulled her hips up, and drove his cock back into her cunt.

She gasped, surprised by his forthrightness and impressed by this seeming change of character. He moved her back and forth, slipping his cock out to the tip every time before plunging back in again. Morgan gripped handfuls of leaves in her hands, her body feeling as if it were bunching for another orgasm. Edwin showed no signs of tiring, his face almost placid and graced with a thin, distant smile. A film of sweat covered his forehead. Morgan listened to his shallow, ragged breathing. He changed his rhythm slightly, and she gasped, the immediacy of her second orgasm shocking her. While she cried out, Edwin sneered and increased his pace, thrusting into her as she squirmed beneath him. With one final, sharp lunge, Edwin came, twitching and crying out.

He kneeled there, panting, between Morgan's legs. The sun had set and the forest lay in darkness. Morgan could hear, over their breathing, the small, scurrying sounds of the nocturnal creatures as they began to stir. The cat in the basket finally lifted its head, eyes bright, searching the ground around it for prey. Eventually, Edwin stood, tucking himself back into his trousers and smoothing his hair. He helped Morgan to her feet, and she brushed off the back of her skirts, to which clung leaves and burrs.

"I'm impressed, Master Edwin," Morgan breathed as she picked up her basket, laden with the heavy cat curled up on the wild herbs and a few select mushrooms. "I didn't think you had that in you." She began picking her way back toward her cottage, leaving him in the dark behind her. Edwin hopped along in her path, trying not to trip over the exposed roots and rocks in the woods.

#

Edwin, having evidently got the gist of their relationship, brought Morgan a goat kid two days later, the next day having been the Sabbath. Joy overwhelmed her, this grandest gesture finally proving that Edwin was, in fact, the man that she needed. When he entered the house, after tethering the goat to a tree in the yard, he inquired after the bird and the cat. He saw the cage that the sparrow had once occupied tossed into a corner on top of a pile of rubbish, and the cat was nowhere to be seen. Morgan, not quite ready to reveal the truth to him, mumbled some excuses under her breath as she pulled a shawl over her shoulders.

"Come, Edwin, and I'll show you something." She led him out into the yard, retrieving the goat, and the three journeyed into the woods behind the house. They walked along a narrow path for a while.

"I have never gone this deep into the woods," Edwin told Morgon.

Eventually they came to a clearing, edged all around in tall, old-growth trees. In the middle of the clover-carpeted glade was a large, flat rock, slightly wider and longer than the width and breadth of a body. Edwin looked at it with some interest, examining the odd stains and lichens that seemed to grow in patterns on the gray stone.

Morgan led the goat to the rock and lifted it up onto the surface. It bleated into the still, warm air of the afternoon as its hoofs clipped on the rock.

"Do you know, Edwin, what it is that unites all of us in this world: the trees, the grass, the insects, you, me?"

Edwin shook his head.

Morgan as she drew a long, thin knife from the waist of her skirt. "Life force, Edwin, some of us have more of it, some less." She ran her hand down the back of the goat, examining it. "A worm, for instance, has a little. This goat, a little more. We? we have quite a bit. But do you know from all you reading, who has the most?" Edwin shook his head. "Celestial beings -- devils, angels -- then your God. Obviously, since we came from that force."

Morgan slit the goat's throat, and red blood spewed forth on the rock, running in invisible grooves down the sides of the stone, leaving red sigils in its wake. The goat fell to its knees, its head down, tongue lolling, then keeled over. Morgan wiped the blade on her skirt and turned to Edwin. She walked languidly toward him, her hips swaying.

The blade of the knife glinted in the sunlight as she slipped it back into the folds of her skirts. She raised a hand up to her neck and ran a sultry finger across her collarbone. Edwin looked as if ready to flee, but he remained, obviously transfixed by his own lust.

"One more night, lover," Morgan whispered to him as she passed, making her way back down the path toward her house. Edwin remained in the clearing, staring at the corpse of the goat on the rock.

#

In spite of the internal dialogue that told him to run, to stay away, to do anything but go to her cottage, the next night Edwin found himself knocking feebly on the door. When Morgan answered it, she wore a long, midnight blue velvet cloak with a huge cowl. Her eyes appeared wide and bright, full of some innocent expectation. She smiled at Edwin: not the wicked grin from the day before, but instead one of pure, blissful joy.

"I almost doubted that you would come, my love, but you have! Oh, you make me so happy!" She draped her thin, naked arms around his neck and drew him to her in an embrace. Morgan did not wear anything under the cloak except for a wide, ornate leather belt strapped around her hips; various sharp things hanging from it glittered in the candlelight. "Come on, Edwin, we've not much time."

She took him by the hand and pulled him toward the woods. He followed, dumb and awestruck, seemingly under some spell. Morgan hummed a light tune, out-of-place in the dark, haunted woods.

They came upon the clearing from the day before. As they entered the glade, a warm wind whipped through the trees, ruffling Morgan's unbound hair.

"I fear there is some demon here," Edwin muttered, his fear getting the better of him for a moment before he returned to listening to Morgan's lilting song, which set his mind at ease. Morgan led him through the warm night air to the rock where she had slain the goat. The carcass was gone, but the smell of blood still hung in the air. They stopped, and Morgan divested herself of her cloak with a flourish, draping it across the top of the giant stone. She stood, bare, in the moonlight, the tools at her belt glistening, her nipples erect in the breeze.