Woman Of The Forest Ch 03

Goddess on the Mountain - The Countess Devana

She was dressed in black and purple; although the purple was so dark, only in certain lights, could you distinguish it from the black. Her clothes were the finest weave of wool of the county's sheep. The black was obtained from rare fruits from the easternmost ends of the trade routes that led to her. The purple was of the snails of the Middle Sea...tens of thousands of the tiny creatures died to dye her finery.

She shivered slightly in the chill of her castle. A glance from her deep-set, dark eyes was enough for the fire in her enormous hearth to glow brighter. The wood would be consumed faster...but her servants would know...she had silently just told them that more fuel must be brought to the Countess's rooms.

As her limbs warmed, she smiled in pleasure...she touched herself between her legs, remembering a lover of long ago.

"Pawel," her eyes closed, she licked her lips...a soft moan escaped her...not through her mouth, but the room reverberated with the sound of sound it was.

Her deepest feelings.

Pawel had saved her from destruction, these...many centuries ago...she lived once a goddess, now a mere countess...her realm had shrunken to this castle, and the countryside surrounding it.

A mortal would feel that they were a great noble, to possess this castle and these wild but rich lands. There was much game here in the hills, in the plains, wild cattle and horses roamed; in the valleys and small villages, her 'subjects' lived prosperous lives, which they thanked the countess for with 'voluntary' gifts.

They were frightened of her. A being they had no understanding of, but they felt her power...such as it was now...but they did not know how diminished she was; it felt like an awesome and terrifying power ruled them.

Once, she was the forest goddess of all Slavdom, she lured young men and women into her domain, and lived and prospered off their sexual energy. The life the women brought into the world kept her young. The piss of the pregnant woman refreshed her both inwardly and in her external appearance...she was immortal, as long as the balance of male and female essence fed her being.

Proud of her strength and power, she took on a challenge to win ever greater glory among the gods. She would revive two dying villages, populated only by old men and women. She would make THEM young again. This miracle would gain her glory and fame, both with the mortals and the gods.

But others were jealous of her, afraid that her increased power would diminish theirs. So they trapped her in that forest...cut off from mortals—she was dying. She needed the mortals, their life sustained her.

War came...and the people were gone, killed or driven off. Her situation became more desperate; she fed off herself to make it day by day. But, she had little time left when salvation came.

Her savior was a small, old, scarred soldier. A mercenary, a killer for hire, and yet paradoxically, a gentleman. He destroyed her jail and her jailers. With patience and compassion, he brought her back from the edge of oblivion.

His love made her strong...he fed her, nurtured her, protected her. And when SHE was ready, she took him as a lover. His love and his sexual energy rejuvenated her. But, he was mortal and he was old, and there was a limit to his capacity. She had never, could never, be the goddess with just one man; she needed many, and she needed women.

Pawel believed that he brought her back, and he did. But, he did not know, that to even start the climb away from oblivion, she had made a deal with the thunder god, Perun. In the storm that washed them both clean before they coupled, the thunder had summoned her out of shelter to be cleansed. In that cleansing, she made a deal with Perun. Then, she was free to love Pawel, and he was always given power from Perun to be able to satisfy; no, recreate, a goddess.

Once she had attained as much strength as Pawel could give her, she was taken up by the winds...controlled by Perun. The price of her salvation, her near-immortality, was to be imprisoned in a large, more luxurious jail. In her deal with Perun, she acknowledged her pride had caused the jealousy of the other gods, and destabilized the older in the realm of the gods and of men.

She was, now, too beautiful and strong to imprison in the old way, but she must admit to this, or face ultimate banishment.

Even as a goddess, this was unknown to her...this oblivion frightened her...she loved her sensuous pleasures. She loved people and their eccentricity, and she loved to enjoy their fleshy pleasures.

The finest wines and foods were her to taste...And as she patted her small-but-round tummy, she murmured and enjoyed it.

Her body was as it had been in her prime—a tall, strikingly beautiful woman, handsomely old, with a muscular body, narrow waist, the round belly of a fan of food. Her face was lean, her lips were thin and pale. Her nose was long, and as I have described, a deep, dark stare that froze most mortals in their tracks.

As she warmed, she moved closer to the fire...reveling in the memory of Pawel... She shed her outer clothing, wearing only a shift of the finest silk and her thick-soled elkskin boots.

A servant came to replenish the fire. He averted his eyes. The servants never looked directly at the Countess.

When he was done with his task, the Countess took control of him.

He was short, lean and strong. She made him Pawel...but not Pawel the old soldier, rather Pawel, the young hunter of the Eagle clan.

He stood there now, as this young Pawel, his servant's garb gone, dressed in the antelope skin antelope-skin tunic of the steppe hunter, dirty and scared.

She had prepared herself for this mating, reveling in her memories for hours, she was ready and she made 'Pawel' ready in an instant.

The tunic tented with the erection she induced on the young Pawel

The servant would wake the next day, or the next week, not knowing where the days had gone, and no memory of what he (Pawel) and the Countess had done.

The Countess had her fill of the young man...her memories of Pawel faded, for now...tonight, there was a lovely young maid bringing the wine...what memory would the Countess mask this young woman in?

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