Arabian Serenade
My name is Serenade. Ordinary girl, writer, dreamer, and, in my
dreams, lover. These are my dreams. Read them if you like, if you're
old enough and you want to dream of love and sex...
I lie all alone on a bed of silks and satin, velvet-tasseled pillows
filled with an intricate Arabian spice. It's hardly a bed and more of
a nest of sheets and pillows, the sort I always imagined an Arabian
princess should have, but four mahogany pillars rise up from the
corners and are spun around with a gauzy canopy. Warm white stone
forms the floor and walls, with doorways leading out onto an arched
balcony, one to a bathroom with a pool of warm rose-scented water, and
one to a hallway, which connects this room to the rest of the palace.
I'm alone, but that's only temporary. In my hands is a goblet full of
spiced wine and milk that warms my fingers, because a light breeze
blows in from the balcony. It's not cold. Just comfortably cool.
The door opens, and a girl steps through. She's beautiful, dressed in
blue and purple satin that complements her full figure spectacularly.
Veils and pearls drip off her, the veils billowing around her like
angel wings. A smile glides across her moist lips, and the goblet
shakes in my hands, although I try to seem cool and unconcerned. Her
name is Ophelia, and I am in love with her.
"I think they suspect." She says.
We are spies. I am the princess of the kingdom. My brother is the
rightful king, but after our father died, he was too young to take the
throne. That was five years ago. My father's brother took the throne.
Stolen power. He declared my brother a traitor and a danger to the
state when he tried to take his birthright back. There's a bounty on
my brother's head, and the two of us are fighting to save our country
from my tyrannical uncle. She's the real spy, acting as a
dancing-girl, but my role is no less important. My uncle trusts me. He
doesn't suspect I keep my loyalty to my brother.
"What do we do?" I ask.
"Nothing. Lay low. I won't be able to leave the palace for a few
weeks."
"Nothing?" I ask, pouting.
She must hear the implications in my voice, because she grins widely,
and slides forward, swinging her hips. My breath catches at the way
the fabric slides across her strong legs. I always feel self-conscious
around her, with my slim, petite figure, small breasts, small hips and
a shy beauty in my face. Somehow, she never seems to think I'm
anything less than beautiful. I think the same of her.
Leaning forward against one of the pillars, she wraps both her arms
and one of her legs around it and tilts her head around to look at me.
"Well, I'm sure I can think of a few things to pass the time."
I sip thoughtfully at my drink, and then set it aside. "What do they
suspect?"
"Me. They might suspect I'm a spy. I've noticed I'm being watched. Are
you sure your chamber's safe?" She casts a wary glance around.
"Of course." I say. "They don't suspect me. I'm the princess."
"Still, be careful."
"You worry too much." I grin. "I'll protect you, no matter what
happens."
Letting go of the pillar, she leans forward and kisses me, gently
tugging at my lips and playing with my tongue. My hands slip around
her and I can feel all the tension and exhaustion she's trying to
hide. This is worrying her more than she wants to admit. I push her
down so that she's lying down and I take control of the kiss. I want
her to relax, and she sighs happily into my lips as her head rests on
a pillow.
"You're tense." I say, breaking off the kiss.
She shrugs and pulls me close again. Still doesn't want to admit she's
hurting. That's all right, I figure, slowly working her out of the
layers of satin and pearls. Her skin is the shade of my drink, white
milk with brown spice and rosy wine, and her breasts tumble out of her
confining shirt. There's no feeling so sweet and peaceful as when
she's holding me with bare breasts, and tonight I feel there's an
extra bittersweet urgency behind the kiss. I don't know why she's so
scared. She's safe here with me. I brush my fingers across her
nipples, which pucker and harden at my touch. The corner of her mouth
moves in a smile.
In the corner of my eye, I see something dark move on my balcony. Her
hand comes up and strays across my vision, and then it's gone. Just
the wind in the curtains, I guess, quickly distracted as she slides
one hand down my hip. I move my hands to massage her neck and
shoulders, trying to ease away her tension. She's got other things on
her mind as she pushes my hand down to the waistband of her pants.
Behind me, someone clears their throat. Hands rip me up from where I
lay upon Ophelia, and my arms are held behind my back. Ophelia leaps
to her feet, snarling, but guards surround us. Guilt rushes over me. I
told her I'd protect her. I told her she was safe here. Then I got so
distracted I didn't even notice them slip in. Screaming with fury, I
struggle, but the guard holds me secure, and places a dagger to my
throat so I don't dare move. Neither does Ophelia.
My uncle steps forward, his lusty eyes flashing over Ophelia's bare
chest. I can tell what he's thinking: It'll be a pity to kill her. He
motions to the guards to bind her, and then turns to me with a smirk.
"Do you think I'm stupid?" He asks.
"I think you're a tyrant." I retort. There's no point in play-acting
anymore. "My brother should be King."
He strikes me across the face so that I fall to the floor, and I hear
Ophelia call my name. A dizzy haze crosses my vision.
"Call together the court. We'll have an execution tomorrow."
I see only red, and then the world goes black.
My eyes open to see the familiar ceiling of my room. A dull ache
presses at my head. I must have hit it against the floor when I fell.
Memory slowly drips back, and then I remember what happened.
"Ophelia!" I cry, sitting up. Two guards stand on opposite sides of my
door. Ice chills my heart. "What are you doing here? Where's Ophelia?
What have you done with her?"
The guards exchange a look, and one of them steps forward, pity clear
on his face. "I'm sorry, Princess..." He trails off, obviously not
sure how to express it.
"What have they done to her?" I repeat.
"She's in the dungeons. She shall be brought before the court today,
and they'll pronounce judgment. Possibly they'll torture her for
information. Probably she'll be condemned to die."
"No!" I scream. "They can't! She doesn't deserve that! She's just
trying to help! Leo should be king! That tyrant's ruining everything!"
I run for the door, but he catches me and suffers my fists hitting his
chest.
"Princess..." The other guard whispers, stepping forward. "Take
courage. There are very few who would support the tyrant, should
Prince Leo reappear."
I look up, my eyes wide. "Please tell me she won't die."
"We'll do the best we can."
"Get dressed." The first guard says, pushing me towards my bath
chamber. "You'll need to be at the court."
I dress quickly, donning my royal reddish purple, to remind the court
of my status as Princess and second heir to the throne. The two guards
flank me as we approach the court, and as I sit in my throne. It's set
three steps beneath my uncle's, and I'm grateful that I'm still seated
there, and not being executed as a traitor. Ophelia, however... My
eyes scan the throne room worriedly, but I don't see her.
My uncle stands and addresses the group of people assembled. They're
all nobles and officials of various positions. Guards surround the
room, covering every exit.
"I have been informed," He begins, "That there are many plots to
overthrow me. Let it be known that I have spies everywhere, and that
any traitors shall be punished." He waves towards the doors at the
back of the throne room. "Bring her in."
A group of guards appears in the doorframe, pulling Ophelia forward.
Her hair is ruffled and she is still topless, but she seems relatively
unharmed. The guards push her to her knees, and a buzz of conversation
ripples through the room. My uncle gestures again, and a large man
steps forward, carrying a whip. I gasp and start to rise from my
chair, and feel the guards on either side of me push me back.
"This is how we treat a traitor." He grins, eyes glinting with evil
and malice.
"No!" I scream, fighting with my captors.
The whip slashes down.
Ophelia flinches, but doesn't cry out. Red slashes criss-cross her
back, blood marring her perfect white skin. Wrenching away from the
guards, I run down the steps from the throne and cover her body with
my own. "Stop it! I command you to stop this!"
There is a moment of silence throughout the court. Ophelia's hand
finds mine and presses tightly in silent thanks. The executioner
pauses, unsure of what to do and reluctant to hit a princess. My uncle
waves his hand angrily, and
I feel a flash of pain cross my back.
One.
Two.
I wait for three, but it doesn't come. The court is holding its
breath.
Following their gazes, I see an arrow sticking out of my uncle's
throne. From the blood I see on his ear, I assume that it grazed him
in passing.
"That was a warning shot." A voice says. "If I have to shoot again,
you'll be dead."
My eyes glance up to the ledge above the throne room, where I
recognize my brother holding a longbow and glaring at the tyrant.
"If any of you have any weapons, I suggest you drop them now."
Swords clatter to the ground, except for a few soldiers, who step
forward and growl orders to the nobles. These must be my brother's
men. Two of them take the liberty to chain my uncle's hands behind
him. Leo leaps down from the ledge, and jumps up the stairs, two at a
time, to the throne. "As Prince of this kingdom, I declare this man a
traitor to the crown and a usurper of the throne. I am the rightful
heir. Are there any objections?"
The court is silent.
I feel hands gently lift me up, and Leo drapes his cloak around
Ophelia to cover her. "See to it that the princess and her companion
are taken care of. They've shown more bravery than most of you here."
A handmaiden and a guard are chosen to lead us off, for which I am
grateful. Political affairs are something I can do without, and I am
worried about Ophelia, who has developed a cough from her night in the
dungeon.
After I finally convince the nurse that I can take care of Ophelia's
wounds on my own, she gives me bandages and a healing salve, and
leaves us alone in my room. Ophelia lays on her side, dried blood
staining her back a messy russet color. I fetch a basin of warm water
and softly begin to wash the blood away. "I'm sorry about this," I
whisper. "It's all my` fault."
Ophelia's eyes are shut against the pain, so I'm not sure she hears
me. My own wounds had hardly broken the skin, so I let the handmaiden
put salve and bandages on them and send her away. The X across my back
will fade with time, but I doubt Ophelia will ever lose her scars.
"Don't say that." She mutters. "I chose to be a spy. If anything, it
was my own fault, for not being careful enough."
"I told you that you'd be safe here." I say. "If you hadn't trusted
me, this wouldn't have happened."
"I don't give a damn." She says. "It happened. You're not allowed to
apologize."
"I'm not allowed to apologize?" I smile, gently working the salve into
the wounds. She flinches at the pain from her raw wounds. "I thought I
was supposed to be giving commands. I'm the princess, after all." My
hands work downward, pulling the waistband of her pants down so that
she lays naked before me, on her stomach so that I can minister to the
cuts on her back. One of her legs curls up, pointing at the toe, and I
blush as my eyes travel down over her long, slim legs. I can't look
away. She turns to glance at me over her shoulder, green eyes
sparkling. I see a smile cross her lips when our eyes meet.
"You really are in love with me, aren't you?" She grins, pushing the
rest of the salve out of my hands and pressing her lips against mine.
Blushing slightly as she lets me go, I nod wordlessly. Her grin widens
and she reaches to pull away my blouse.
I catch her hand to stop her. "First let me put the bandages on."
A scowl crosses her sweet face, and she nods agreement, lifting her
arms so that I can wind the bandages around her, leaving her breasts
free. She kneels as I do this, her hair falling back across her
shoulders to get in my way, her back arched so that her stomach pulls
taut and her breasts stand forward pertly. As I wind the cloth across
her front, she moves so that my hand brushes across her soft pink
nipple, and I feel my breath catch. She's trying to seduce me, and
succeeding admirably. When I finish and pin the cloth in place, she
hardly waits a second before pouncing me with a happy growl and
pinning my arms to the bed.
"Are... are you sure you're up for this?" I ask shyly, still knowing
how weak she feels.
It earns me a seriously annoyed glare. "I'm not asking, Princess." She
says, kissing me with fierce passion. "Haven't I earned this much?"
"Of course you have." I say, lifting one of my legs slightly so that
my knee presses where the curls between her legs are already moist.
"You're ever so brave and beautiful and sexy." Giggles bubble up
through me. Her eyes glint with humor and arousal when she realizes
I'm feeling playful. Sliding down my leg slowly so that I gasp with
pleasure as her thigh rubs the cloth of my pants against my clit, she
purrs seductively and pulls me into a passionate kiss. Her tongue
slides along my lips possessively and I feel her chuckle as I struggle
to slip out of my pants without breaking the kiss. Both of her hands
slip under my blouse, hands teasing across my skin and playing with my
breasts.
Breaking off to rid me of the blouse and pants, she grins and pushes
me back down, and we kiss again, tongues sliding in and out against
each other, slick wet velvet with just a taste of raspberries on my
breath. She moans softly as my fingers flick her nipples lightly, then
creep downward to slip between her thighs. One of my fingers sneaks
inside her. Her eyes flicker wide for a moment of surprise, then she
grins and shifts her hips towards me. A second finger joins the first,
exploring her soft pink folds, slick with her own juices. Soft sighs
reward me when my fingers move in just the right way, and she slips
her own hand down my body to rub her fingers against my soft pink sex,
warm with pleasure.
She pulls our bodies closer, so that we move in unison, each breath,
each gasp, each touch. Pleasure rises within me and my body arches
back, my thoughts are erased, and my lips can do nothing but whisper
her name over and over again until I fall, gasping, upon her, as her
own orgasm finishes and she tilts my head back for a light, sweet
kiss.
"I love you." She whispers, her body warm with sweat as she presses me
back into the pillows, and lays her head upon my shoulder, her
breathing soft and even.
"I love you too, Filly." I say, using my pet name for her, but I know
she's already asleep as I brush my hands lightly through her hair.
~Serenade.
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