[I have been a long-time reader on Literotica, but this is my first ever submission. I definitely err on the side of reluctance rather than non-consent for my preferred stories, and I'm really looking forward to exploring some ideas of scenarios where the characters really shouldn't, but they just can't help themselves.
Thanks so much for reading, and hopefully this will be the first of a bit of a series].
*
It was midnight, and I was finally an adult. The ceremonies had been conducted one after another all afternoon to usher me away from my childhood and the end of my eighteenth year. My mouth hurt from smiling, but at least I hadn't disappointed my mother by ruining the expensive dress I wore which she had alternately threatened and begged me to not get dirty. Now, as I sat on the throne reserved for this occasion before the bonfire, the ivory weave flickered with red light. My dark knees and feet were bare as was custom, but it was the height of summer so I was not cold. I raised my head, flower-sprinkled curls falling down my back, and I looked out at the crowd which had relaxed now the formalities were over. A shadowed figure caught my eye. Although I couldn't see his face, I knew that stance like I knew my own reflection. I turned to my mother, who was starting to fade with fatigue, and asked her permission to go for a walk. She conferred with my father, who was negotiating some new agreement with a guest, and after heated whispers back and fourth, they agreed. Technically, at eighteen, I was no longer their charge, but the Bond did not officially begin until sunrise. I sighed. Five hours of freedom in a single lifetime. I began to step off the dais, but my mother grabbed my arm tightly before my second foot touched the ground.
"Make sure you stay out of trouble, you understand? The Palace demands that you arrive pure and untouched, and- "
"-our family depends on you to fulfill the Bond. Yes, mother, I know."
My mother scrutinised me in the firelight, her face so like yet unlike mine softening.
"We will miss you, Anesha. I wish it wasn't you..."
She didn't have to finish the sentence. I was the only daughter. Every low-born family had a rare opportunity to raise their status and undo past transgressions by agreeing to give their daughter to the Palace once she is of age. Forever. I had heard the story of my great-grandmother enough times to know the significance.
"I know, mama. Now, please let me stretch my legs before I have to sit in a carriage all day."
I stepped into the shadows and wandered through the crowd. The heat from the fire radiated among the bodies and I could feel a trickle of sweat beading between my breasts. I ran my fingers through my hair which had grown wilder as the day went on, and snatched a small cake from one of the long tables set up for the feast. I widened my curve and wandered further away from all the people and the roar of conversation finally dulled so I could hear the cicadas. I skirted around the side of my father's barn, and leaned against it for a second before slowly sliding to the ground with my feet outstretched. Four hours and forty five minutes before my life was never again my own. I supposed I should feel worse about it, but I took a bit out of the apple cake and let the moonlight cool me down.
Suddenly a shadow fell over me, and it whispered my name in a husky baritone: "Anesha."
"Fabre", I said, managing to sound more surprised than I was and pulling my legs together, "what are you doing here?"
His family was a level below mine. Where my father was a merchant, his was a blacksmith. He was one of four boys, and no sisters meant no opportunity to bargain for more status and education. Instead, he was fated to follow in his father's footsteps and unless his aging father managed a daughter soon, his family would have no opportunity to progress for another generation.
Fabre knelt on the soft straw, supporting himself with one hand on either side of my legs, and kissed me on my open mouth. I looked furtively around me.
"Fabre, we really shouldn't. You know what my father is like, and in..." I looked at the moon "four hours and twenty minutes, I'm going to have to leave. Forever."
"I know, Anesha," he rumbled in my ear as a hand crept to my breast, "you don't have to remind me."
We had been sneaking around together all summer. He was a tall lad, well-muscled from a season of smithing. I couldn't see them in the dark, but he had eyes the colour of the ice that floats downriver in spring, and I loved to look into them. Our families were cordial, but separate, and the kissing and touching I had let him do these recent months was an absolute secret. I was still a virgin, but my parents did not want to take any chances and so I had always stopped him from going too far.
Fabre ran his thumb over my nipple, nothing but the dress between his hand and my skin. He kissed me on my neck, and shifted one knee between mine.
"Fabre," I sighed, leaning my head back against the barn wall, "what if someone sees?"
"They won't," he said with certainty, his fingertips running along the edge of my neckline before slipping under the fabric.
He shifted his weight again, and suddenly both his knees were between mine, spreading my bent knees apart. I went to protest again, and he cut me off with another kiss, dipping his tongue into my mouth. Leaning over me, he kept one hand on my breast and trailed another down my belly towards the hem of my dress. Our culture is quite open when it comes to cuts of clothing, but sitting like this had caused it to hike quite a way up my thighs than was proper. As per custom, I only wore a thin slip underneath and Fabre pushed the satin fabric further up my thighs.
I pulled away from his kiss and whispered "what are you doing?"
He didn't answer, but instead traced up my inner thigh to the curve of my buttock, the cooling night breeze suddenly apparent against the wetness further in. We had played this game several times before, seeing how far we could get without actually defiling me, but never at a time of so much risk. I tried to push him away, but he just entwined his hand around my dark curls and pulled himself closer, stretching my thighs further apart in the process.
His long back blocked out the moon, and I could only see silver light highlighting his hair. I could feel his hand drawing closer to my centre, his fingertips growing slick with my desire. I tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip on my hair, and touched my folds with the lightest of touches. Unconsciously, my hips moved towards him, and I slid a little further down the wall. Taking this movement as encouragement, he dipped a fingertip into my vulva and stroked gently upwards.
Worrying where this was leading, and where my body wanted it to lead, I decided to do something radical.
"What about my mouth? Remember we did that once? I'll let you do that, Fabre, but that's all and then I'd better get back..."
His interest piqued, he let go of my hair and used one hand to untie his trousers. I had seen his penis before, and was a little disappointed it was too dark to see it now. I was always fascinated how hard it could get and how the colour of the head was different to the colour of the shaft. But, as they say, all cats are grey at night time and all I could see was a shadow. Pressing towards me, I opened my mouth and he guided himself in. I remembered to keep my tongue soft and my teeth tucked away, and gently sucked on the tip. He snaked his hand up to the back of my head, and I slid down a little further to create some space to move. I was hoping that this would distract him and his other hand would leave things be, but unfortunately, that wasn't the case.
As I took a little more of him in my mouth, his other hand pressed a little more firmly on my vulva, fingers sliding up to my clitoris and then back down again to the entrance of my vagina.
"Gentle", I tried to say, though of course it came out muffled sounding something like "Gngkle."
