Woman of the Forest

Woman of the Forest 04

Rite of the First Night - The Countess Devana

"Lada, who with her husband Lado, make the marriage of our People sacred and good, accept our humble and poor gifts."

The young couple knelt, heads bowed, in the grove sacred to their gods. Knelt, but not together. At opposite ends of the grove. Their voices carried through the trees and joined in the center of the grove.

Both were barefoot, as was proper on sacred ground; both were otherwise fully clothed, dressed from ankle to neck, wrist to shoulder, as prescribed by the laws. Their heads were uncovered. Both wore their hair long and unbound, as a symbol of their purity.

Their birds of offering flew to the center of the grove...to mate...the birds were joined now for life.

Watching, seeing from her tower far above, but unseen by the young people, the Countess Devana, thought to herself, "this is a good omen, these are good omens, their voices join in the sacred grove, their offerings find each other and mate. Tonight, will be a proper joining of two for the continuation of their people."

After the ceremony in the sacred grove, the betrothed bathed, separately in the sacred pools. The maiden in the Pool of the Maidens. The young man (our people have no name for an unmarried male, but all others are husbands, or father, grandfather, or uncle) in the Pool of Lado.

The maiden is attended by her female relatives, the male, by his male relatives. This occasion is not as solemn as the rite in the grove, it is for frivolity for jesting for imparting of what wisdom the others have to the betrothed.

Neither female nor male, ever saw another person naked. Their people, while not prudish, were very modest. The wedding bathing party, for so it was a party, was a legitimate time for communal nakedness.

Zora was embarrassed, yet her excitement overrode her shyness. According to custom, her sisters disrobed her prior to the bathing, then the sisters disrobed their mother, and then removed their own garments.

Her eldest sister, Myrene, was several years older than Zara. She had been married for several winters and had one little girl.

Olenna was the youngest of the daughters of Verka, the mother of the three daughters.

The only other woman present was Verka, but she was never spoken to by that name, not even by her husband Janko; at least, not in public. What couples call each other in private is their business.

To her daughters and all others, she was Matka Córek, Mother of Daughters.

Verka was a stern but loving mother; her daughters were all diligent workers. Like Verka, Zara and Myrene were lean, small breasted, long limbed, supple and wiry. Their buttocks were well rounded, but otherwise, they were not the ideal female of myth.

No goddess-like breasts or narrow waists. Their noses were long and their cheeks hollow. While not humorless, their demeanor exuded loyalty, duty, and order.

Olenna, by contrast, was very like her father, Janko. Where he was a bull of a man in stature and lust, Olenna was large and rounded, firm and voluptuous. A saucy tongue and a careless nature were her way.

Olenna, except for her somewhat frivolous nature, appeared to an outsider to be more mature than she actually was. Verka's eyebrows rose in consternation, as she observed Olenna spending entirely too much time bathing her abundant pubic hair and washing for an indelicately long period between her legs.

The Mother of Daughters was relieved, by Myrene's bawdy remonstration of Olenna. "Olenna, we know you, it is not your time of the month, and you have no need as a virgin to wash a man's seed from your pussy, so you must be pleasuring yourself."

It was out of character for Myrene, or any of Verka's daughters to speak thus, but it was a tradition of the bridal bath to speak frankly about such things. Myrene, as the eldest daughter, had broken the ice and the scene descended into one of indecent storytelling and joking.

Illarion, the virgin male (the local vernacular for his status literally translated) was technically correct in this label. In some ways, he was more like Janko, his bride's father-- a robust young man, stoutly built but in no way fat; he was apprenticed to his father Dragomir, the expert blacksmith of the county, along with his brothers, Miroslav, and Casimir.

Illarion was the youngest of the brothers, his elder brothers both married. It was tradition that the eldest siblings be married before the younger. In some families, this was a cause of strife, but not with Ilarion's or Zara's.

There was no ceremony about the disrobing for the men's bath, they all stripped off and jumped into the pool. Except that Illarion hesitated. The tenting of his robe gave away the reason why.

"Save that for Zara, you will have no use for that stiffness here." That was from his father who had just emerged from the pool, sputtering and dripping water all over the stones that encircled the pool.

"Besides, once you enter into the pool, it will shrink anyway," joked Miroslav, who had also just emerged from the icy waters and laughingly displayed his shrunken male parts.

"Oh get over yourself, and get in," grumbled Casimir.

And Illarion did, still wearing his white robe which floated to the surface after his deep dive. Illarion was by far the best diver and swimmer of the family, maybe the county. The pool was nothing compared to the deep, wild river swimming that many of the county enjoyed for sport...but not usually this early in the season.

Dragomir listened to this, and other foolishness mostly in silence. He was not a melancholy man, but he was respected as a serious man, whose few words were worth listening to. This day, he was grateful to the gods that Illarion had made it to a wedding day without disgracing himself, his family, or the maiden, Zara.

For the wedding itself, the ceremony was simple. After the bathing, each party to the marriage, separately, were anointed with the sacred oil of the People, usually an oil scented with balsam for the male and a floral scent for the female, but this was not necessary or obligatory; the oil was, that is, but the choice of scent was entirely personal.

Then the betrothed were dressed by their attendants, usually the ones they shared the ritual bath with. A gift of the Countess was closest to their skins, usually the first fine underwear, or underwear of any sort, either had ever worn. Then fine hose for both gathering below the knee with garters of leather or ribbon. Their hair worn long by both was tied back, beneath a crown of twisted holly.

The male was then given fine-leather leggings, tied to an ornate silver-studded belt. A ceremonial apron covered his front and rear, embroidered with the crest of the county-- a circle of pines with the Countess's tower in the center.

Some of the elders resented the pride of place that the Countess took in these ceremonies. But folklore reminded all that centuries before the Countess, this night would be the Night of the Lord of the county. All maidens were to be enjoyed by the Lord of the county before they could consummate their union with their betrothed.

The ego of the Countess and her clear generosity were benign by comparison,

The bride wore a curious split skirt or rather voluminous pantaloons that, if it were not for the fine undergarments, left her sex and her bottom exposed. This area was also covered by an identical apron.

The upper garments for both in the wedding couple were handmade by the mothers; the bride's mother would sew and embroider the groom's shirt, and the groom's mother would embroider the bride's.

The basis of the garment was a linen shirt of similar pattern for both in the wedding couple, the natural color of the linen enhanced with traditional design passed down through generations. Some of the symbols were religious, with depictions of Lada and Lado, others were evocations of nature or the skills each party brought to the marriage.

The elaborate symbolism of some of the designs barely hid the frankly sexual nature of their message.

The entire wedding party proceeded barefoot up the paved path to the Countess's castle. The most sacred part of the ceremony had nothing to do with the Countess. At the base of the hill, and beneath the castle was a grotto, sacred to the People for millennia, the Countess Devana was expressly forbidden from entry as she was not a native of the county, but one imposed by the gods to rule the People.

Ancient wizards had charmed the space, so even the Countess's deep seeing eye could not penetrate. Only the wedding couple would enter, only the wedding couple knew what had transpired. This was the secret of every couple of the People. Their marriage was theirs. How they joined as a couple, what vows they took, this was the secret of the grotto. Because nothing of the Countess could enter the grotto, there was a private ante room where they were stripped by their attendants of all their finery. They would then enter the grotto with only their crown made from the plants of the county.

The attendants would wait to robe them when they emerged. There was no set time, no expectation. The only rule was that they must appear before sunset.

In less than fifteen minutes, Zara and Illarion appeared from the grotto clutching each other closely, guarding each other's modesty, looking chilled to the bone from the grotto's damp, dank depths, but also glowing with an immense joy.

There now being no secrets between them, they were robed by their attendants together. The aprons being reversed to show not the countess's coat of arms but the symbols of the new family that they had just created-- the hammer of the forge, the sigil of Illarion's family, and the Hollyhock, a sigil of Zara's family.

The rest of the family and many from their village now joined them to swell the procession to the gates of the castle. The tradition was to stage a mock storming of the castle. On reaching the castle, the massive gates closed against the 'mob'. The wedding crowd stormed the gates with a rousing chorus of "the People have come; the castle is ours!" The Countess's men dressed in parade uniforms, not battle armor, fended them off with rose petals.

Finally the Countess, herself, 'surrendered' but not to the mob, but to 'true love' and allowed the new couple entry, to the huzzahs of the throng. Their victory won the crowd, as they stayed back. They would be provided food and drink by the castle guards, while they sat vigil on the wedding night, a holdover from the ancient days where the people had to be sure the lord returned the bride, after he had had his way with her.

Awestruck, Zara and Illarion entered the keep. At the gate house, they were gifted with silk slippers and escorted to their banquet.

The Countess received them in the grand ballroom, for which she had little use as it was huge and a capacity of hundreds which seemed ridiculous for the amount of entertaining she did. Actually, all the entertaining she did were the wedding feasts and funerals of 'her' People.

This would be the first time either Zara or Illarion had seen the Countess Devana close up. The Countess conducted most of the business of the county through elders, both male and female, who met her in formal chambers elsewhere in the castle; if she had any business outside the castle, she traveled at night in a closed carriage to mysterious locations at the borders of the county.

There were whispers amongst the People, but no one really knew what these nocturnal travels portended.

The couple was greeted cordially by the Countess, who had plainly dressed down for the occasion, wearing her take on a peasant costume, which still came across as impossibly lavish to the young couple. Instead of her usual dark gown of rich material, she wore an ankle-length embroidered skirt over tall black boots. Her slight belly bulged the waistband of the skirt, into which she tucked in an oversize blouse of silk with a tight black vest emphasizing her still-firm, ageless bosom.

Her face was pale, thin, with high cheekbones. One eyebrow seemingly frozen in a quizzical arch. Her long black hair, loose in the fashion of a maiden.

The food was rich, but not overwhelming. A first course of vegetables from the fields or the castle greenhouses, then a spicy barley soup, with some excellent dark bread that was slightly sweet. The meat course was partridge from the surrounding forests topped with a savory gravy.

The sweet course were exotic fruits from the countess's hot house, some variety of melon that did not grow naturally in the valley.

The young couple drank spring water and beer from the county brewery, the Countess ate as the couple ate, but drank a dark red wine...she laughed at her poor manners and offered the couple some, but they knew that tradition forbade any of the People should partake of the Lord's wine, a caution learned in the 'bad old days'.

The young couple drank a lot of the spring water, and a fair quantity of the local beer, which was very tasty, but not particularly inebriating.

The Countess, by contrast, drank glass after glass of her special wine though Illarion noted she often mixed it with the spring water.

The Countess smiled nobly, feigning to be interested in the small talk of two of her lesser subjects. All the while, she was analyzing and anticipating...Illarion felt an instinctive dread...but that soon passed over the vision of his bride before him and the fine food and drink.

Abruptly, the Countess excused herself and left the table

The young couple gazed at each other, but one of the servers assured them that they had not offended the Countess, it was merely her way.

"Our Lady sometimes gets a thought into her head and must act on it immediately...this happens all the time...think nothing of it."

They were led to their bed chamber, their escort matter-of-factly explaining the location and purpose of the garderobes.

Expertly relieving the tension both young people felt, their experience was solely in outhouses at their homes or relieving themselves in the forests and fields as necessary...

"I will go first," giggled Zara. "Only if I can watch," Illarion said, with a wink.

"Oh, you are so bad."

"We should not have secrets, dear."

"Well I only have to make water, but I must do it in a grand manner." With that, Zara lowered her pantaloons and fine underwear to send a powerful stream into the facility...wetting the castle wall below where the garderobe emptied some several meters.

"It will be some days before you can watch me poop...that is too embarrassing," again a girlish-and-yet-no-longer-girlish giggle.

"Now, let me help you...I have wanted to 'help you' for a long time." With that, she lowered Illarion's underclothes and held his stiffening manhood in her warm hand...impishly, she stroked his shaft making it even harder.

"You keep that up and I will be unable to make water, but will lose my seed!" Illarion did not 'lose his seed' at least not then, but as a byproduct of his excitement and Zara's inability to aim his stream of piss, the area around the garderobe was well watered but little made it to the outlet that fed the waste outside the walls of the castle..

The couple were both aghast by the mess they had created. As a reminder that servants were all about the castle, a polite cough was followed by... "You are the Countess's guests on a special night, you can be at ease... Your room awaits."

They both blushed deeply, and meekly followed the servant to their room...or should it be rooms, for theirs was a suite. A small receiving room and then a large private bedroom with a balcony overlooking the wild areas of the county. Next to the bedroom was a large closet stuffed with all varieties of costume.

The servant pointed this out. "Some of our special guests are amused to try on different outfits for their stay here."

"Feel free to explore these rooms. You have a private entrance to your own garderobe. This..." as the servant indicated an elaborately decorated rope, "...will summon a servant tasked to do whatever you will." This statement was punctuated with a meaningful stare. "But, please, do not leave this room or the castle in the hours of darkness. The guards are very strict about curfew."

"Goodnight, then."

The servant turned to leave, they could both see the hint of a smile across his lips and a low chuckle was heard, as he walked away down the long hallway.

Zara rushed into Illarion's arms. So many surprises that night from this woman he had thought so reserved. She was kissing him passionately, and trying to remove his shirt.

"Wait! I have a duty. I must carry you into our bed chamber."

Zara smiled broadly, and giggled like the girl she no longer was. And smiled impishly like the wife she was to become.

Lifting the lean Zara was nothing for a man like Illarion, used to hefting heavy tools and iron for his work. She was so light! He was aroused by the touch of her and inflamed even more as she kissed him enthusiastically, as he carried her into the bed chamber.

Despite his ardor, or maybe because of it, he was surprisingly gentle and careful as he laid her on the bed.

Zara colored a deep red. "I am not as fragile as all that, Illarion the Iron Worker. I will not turn to dust under your weight. Indeed, I have waited longingly for it, all these months we have been betrothed."

As was usual for the People, the young expected a lot on their wedding night, having lived under strict but benevolent protection all their lives. This was their first 'adult' thing. In one night, they would become lovers and independent people, no longer legally anyone's responsibility but their own.

It was heady stuff. The first part being lovers was indeed what sealed them as adults. If they failed at that, they were still but children.

There was no possibility of that happening with these two. Primed for her husband's touch since their betrothal, and yearning even more for him the last few days, Zara's preparation for their union was completed in the bath with some sage advice from her mother and sister. Not advice so much as description. Descriptions so vivid, that her secret places were moist in anticipation of the night's activities.

Illarion was easy, there was nothing he needed but an erection, or so he thought. But he found that he yearned to savor his bride's body, so now, he slowly stripped her as she lay on the bed; kissing her deeply, as each layer was removed.

Once she was totally naked to his gaze, he touched and kissed her from head to toe...even suckling her not-so-delicate toes on her long, narrow feet.

Zara was almost all elbows and knees, a prominent collarbone, thin muscular arms and legs, small, pointed breasts with what-were-thought-to-be enormous, hard nipples. Her secret places were hidden behind a forest of tangled hair with a wet slit in the middle and a prominence like a little finger emerging from the forest.

He gazed in wonder at the gift the gods and Zara had given him.

His reveries were interrupted. "Illarion? Now, it's my turn." insisted Zara.

Zara was less delicate...practically ripping off Illarion's wedding finery. But she kept him standing at the side of the bed, while she examined him in her detail-oriented fashion.

She caressed his deep, strong chest, causing his nipples to become erect. His breathing deepened, as she ran her hands over his round-but-hard belly, pausing to tease his pubic hair and caress his large testicles well covered in dark curly hair. She made him turn, so that she could kiss his rounded, hard buttocks. He clenched his ass cheeks, as she shyly kissed the base of his spine.

At this point, they looked into each other's eyes and understood that an earthquake of passion was approaching and flung themselves on the bed...They had done their foreplay for weeks beforehand, each was ready to possess the other. Zara was wet, she spread her thin thighs, parted her secret lips, Illarion retracted the foreskin on his short but extremely stout erection, revealing the moist pink head.