F5: Lorelei's Call
(Author's note: This story is an entry into FAWC (Friendly Anonymous Writing Challenge), a collaborative competition among Lit authors. FAWC is not an official contest sponsored by Literotica, and there are no prizes given to the winner. Every story for this FAWC begins with the exact same line. Where it goes from there is up to the author.)
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Upon the table lay three items: a handkerchief, a book, and a knife. Lambert may not have marked this as anything unusual if they hadn't become animated shortly after Alaric left his tower workroom.
Alaric, the wizard, had laid the items out on the table, preparing to show his apprentices, Lambert and Ewal, a new spell. His preparations for the lesson were curtailed, however, when Ewal huffed up the stairs and, nearly out of breath because of the height of the tower, with Alaric's spells room at the top, declared, "The count needs you, sire."
"Count Karl always needs me," Alaric, muttered. "What now?"
"He is bleeding, sire."
"From which orifice this time?" Alaric queried.
"From the mouth, sire."
"Ah, it progresses then," Alaric said with a sigh. The third count of Katzeneinbogen, master of Shloss Burg Reinfels, stronghold of the rulers of the region since 1245, had been dying for three months now. "I suppose I must go," he said, and he did so, following Ewal down the winding staircase, but not before glowering at his other apprentice, the young Lambert, and muttering, "Do not touch a thing in my absence."
Upon the wizened wizard's departure, Lambert's attention had, in fact, initially been arrested by the hint of the siren song wafting across the Rhine from the Lorelei to the towers of Reinfels Castle.
Having only heard the legend and never having experienced it, Lambert rushed to the window facing the Rhine and looked for the ship that the Lorelei was trying to entrance onto the rocks from the cliffs at the bend on the other side of the river. But he could see no ship. Surely one hasn't wrecked already, he thought.
There had been no wrecks in many years now, the pilots of the river having learned the best way to navigate past the danger the Lorelei cliff and submerged rocks below held for river boats. Rather than assuring Lambert, however, this observation made him start to tremble, as he remembered that the song, by legend, was only supposed to be heard by the ones the Lorelei was trying to entice to their destruction.
In fear and confusion, Lambert covered his ears—to no available—as the tune seemed to be coming from within his own brain. He turned from the window, only to have his attention arrested by the handkerchief, book, and knife on the long wooden table in the center of the chamber. The silken handkerchief was rippling, the bejeweled silver dagger was glowing and rattling against the table surface, and Alaric's thick book of charms and spells had opened and its pages were ruffling.
Until the pages weren't turning anymore. As the leafs of the book stopped moving and the dusty volume lay open, nearly in the middle, the revealed pages began to glow. Even from where Lambert stood, he could see the ink of a passage of text turning to blood red and appearing to raise up on the page.
Lambert moved gingerly over to the book. "Take up the knife," the raised text read in bold letters. The young man, of course, had no intention to do so, as the wizard quite clearly had told him not to touch anything. But he felt a nudge of cold metal on his fingers and looked down to see that one of his hands had brushed the surface of the table and that the knife had moved to nudge against his thumb.
And then, in Lambert's involuntary loose grip, the slim dagger was in his hand and moving to, and under the edge of, the rippling handkerchief.
Lambert no longer felt in control of his actions. He sank to his knees on the bench beside the table as he watched his hand slide the point of the dagger under the edge of handkerchief and begin to raise it. And as the dagger raised the handkerchief, the silky material expanded, rising up and billowing outward, until Lambert was forced to rise and stand on the bench to continue raising the knife. When he had lifted what was now a silken tent to the level of the top of his head, the material fell in folds—down to the ankles of a beautiful young maiden, raven-haired, voluptuous, with entrancing eyes of emerald green flecked with gold—and naked.
The dagger fell out of Lambert's hand, clattered to the table top, and, its purpose apparently satisfied, slowly lost both its luster and its shimmer and became unnoticed.
Although barely nineteen, the classically Germanic blond Lambert was as much a man as any man—and more handsome and firm of body than most. Although transfixed with shock and surprise, the young maiden's beauty and the perfection of her nubile body mesmerized him, and his body betrayed his arousal, tightening at the center of him, legs feeling they would surely turn to jelly, eyes lighting up and jaw dropping. His hands instinctively reached out toward, but, in his innocence to the arts of love, dared not touch the milky white curves of her body, contrasted by the jet-black hair cascading to her shoulders and forming a trim V of dark curls at her mound, the folds of her labia puffy and enticing as they peeked through the tight curls.
Surely I am just dreaming this, Lambert thought, but, if so, he didn't want to be awakened. His ears were ringing with the siren song of the Lorelei. His staff was pressing hard at the inner confines of his codpiece and was throbbing.
Not being able to move for himself, the maiden, first, pulled at the cords of his jerkin, causing it to part across his tanned and muscular chest and then moved her hand to the strings of his codpiece and released his erect phallus. She then reached for his hands and moved one to a melon-plump breast and the other to the folds of her labia. Her moan as his fingers slid into her folds served to slice into his trance, and his knees now did give way and he sank down to the them upon the bench.
Which put his face at the level of the maiden's center. Encasing his head in her delicate but surprising strong hands, she pulled his face into her mound. Here, even though he had never known a woman in this way before, Lambert's tongue, by instinct known to all males, moved up between the labia and found, and began to lick and suck on, her clitoris. He continued to work her breasts with one hand, and the fingers of the other found their way inside her as she spread her thighs to give him ever-deeper access to the secrets of her luscious body.
