The Exchange

word cound:1,328

The thin mist from Malikia’s breath fills the cold night air as she strides calmly and rapidly forward.  The night is ebony, only tiny studs of light filling the sky.  Despite the dark, her feet unerringly find the path through thick forest. She is unaware of the light snow, unaware of the wind that blows her raven hair wildly across her face. Behind, keeping pace with her quick tread, is Dagmar.  The old servant braces herself against the freezing weather. She follows her mistress s silently ready to protect her from any danger that may appear. They have been walking for over five miles and the village has long disappeared behind them. Suddenly they emerge into a vast open space, a giant structure of stone and mortar blocks their view of the sky.  It is a most imposing sight.
Malikia and her silent companion do not stop to admire the view.  They move swiftly to the bridge and cross the moat to the courtyard.  A few men stand warming themselves at a fire a few feet from the door and one begins to intercept her when he notices old Dagmar. Quickly he lowers his eyes to the ground and bows in a show of respect.  “Mi Lady, the master awaits,” his gruff voice announces.  He never looks in their direction as he quickly pulls the massive door open.  Flaming torches burn on either side of the door and reveals a vast baronial hall, its walls lined with rich, vibrant tapestries.
A long, circular stairway leads to an upper level where another large double door awaits. A man-servant stands at the bottom stair.  “Follow me,” he says, gesturing an aged hand upward. “You may wait here.” He instructs Dagmar as he turns to lead Malikia. At the top, he opens the double doors and moves aside to allow her entrance.
The room is large, an enormous fireplace prominent at the far end. On the right side of it sits an intricately carved, thickly cushioned chair.  Dominic Sabastian Servasus rises as she comes into view. Like his surroundings, Dominic is appears massive and imposing.  For the first time since she left her house this night, the voice that has guided her is silent within her mind. She shivers as the cold penetrates into her returning consciousness.
“Come. Warm yourself.” His voice is strong and commanding.
Hesitating a moment, she moves slowly closer to the fire. Dominic watches her, his dark eyes as smoldering as the embers before her. He is a man of near-perfect proportions, a streak of silver in his own black locks.  He watched the melted snow fall from her hair to steam before the fireplace. He sees the rapid rise and fall of her breast beneath her robe “Are you afraid , Malikia?”
“A little, my Master,” she stammers. Her voice is small and childlike.
“Take this,”. Malikia takes the golden goblet, knowing the ritual had begun. She drinks slowly letting the new wine burn through her, listening for the words she has waited a lifetime to hear. She hears Dominic chanting in a low monotone as he circles her.  “Put within her the power of healing with a touch and tear asunder the veil between the present and future at her command”.  Gently she begins to sway.  Dominic moves closely behind her.  He leans and whispers into her ear, “Are you ready?”  Her answer is barely a whisper.  ‘Yes, Master.”  Dominic repeats, “Are you ready?”  “Yes, Master, I am ready. I give freely in total obedience!”
With purposeful and quick movements he removes her robe. Appreciatively he lets his eyes roam over her youthful figure.  Allowing his own robe to fall to the floor, he steps closer behind her.  Arcs of power dance between two naked bodies and a tiny moan escapes her lips as she felt it move over her bare skin.
Dominic presses close, his body hard and hot against her.  She gives herself completely to the power pulsing around her.  In an instant, it changes. A swirling mist encompasses her. She is aware of him everywhere at once. “No!” She is ordered as she begins to open her eyes. Every inch of her body is tingling and the pressure of a volcano builds within her.  The more his essence moves around her, through her, the more she loses touch with herself; where she begins and he ends. The feel of him, warm and delicate, caresses her neck, her shoulders, her breast.  She tries to pull away, to find the space to catch her breath but is lured back by sheer desire. Her body begins to yearn for more.  Where there had been a young giirl’s wants was now a full grown woman’s desire. The energy coursing throughout her body leaves behind rounded mature hips. Breast that were perky and small are now more ample and alluring and the soft down that covered her mound is silky and inviting. Power surges over her and she revels in the new sensations. Every inch of her is crying out for release, begging for the exquisite torture to end. Suddenly his muscular arms are around her.  Her fingers, once innocent and fumbling now caressed him in ways that made him cry out in the dark. She takes his manhood and gently massages it until his breaths comers in gasps. His hands find her breasts, cupping and squeezing the new firm roundness of them, his thumbs circling across her nipples. She gasped at the sensation, moaning as his fingers rolled across the pebbled tips, tugging upon them. Her thighs pressed together desperately, her legs moving as her hips arched, a blatant pleading for the pressure and fullness she craved. When he slid one hand down her stomach, his fingers parting the fine curls that covered her sex, she sobbed in pained pleasure, tiny eruptions building and circling through her, but never easing the blatant yearning of her body. He slipped his hand between her thighs, moaning his own anticipation as his long middle finger slid easily into the damp hot flesh, feeling the seductive walls of her vaginal sheath pull at him. He groaned softly as she cried out her need. He slips between her thighs, taunting her with his body, rubbing against her, plying his soft lips over her nipples.  "Now!" he shouted, startling her, even as the walls around them shook slightly with the sound. "Look at me."

Her eyes flew open as he grinds himself against her, his body punishing as it pleasured. She felt that overwhelming tide of ecstasy unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. She stares up at him as it consumes her, her body rigid with it. It radiates from where he still moves inside of her, around her, pulsing through her body in rapturous waves, forcing a scream from between her parted lips.
Mallikia wakes slowly, her mind fuzzy as if she'd had too much to drink. She stares at the walls in confusion, they were almost familiar.

Dominic stands before the fireplace, his sharp eyes gazing at her with undisguised pleasure.  His hair, no longer marred by the streak of white, hangs loosely and wild to his shoulders.  “See to your Mistress,” is all he says. In seconds the room is filled with women who quickly and efficiently bathe and adorn her in a robe of rich fabric. By the time they have completed their task, her confusion has cleared. Alone again with Dominic, she stands and walks over to him, a scared child of eighteen summers no longer.  He reaches for her hand and places upon her right index finger a ring that matches his own.  He speaks to her.  “We have exchanged gifts, some of your youth for some of my power. May we use them wisely.”
Standing on the outside again Maliikia, the new enchantress of her village, speaks to the shadow who has appeared by her side. “Come Dagmar, there is much for us to do.”