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It was held by many that Ethne Cawthorne had bedded more women than any knight in the academy. She and Liadan were polar opposites in that regard: Liadan would only make love when she was in love, but Ethne enjoyed wooing and charming any fair maiden she came across – including a blacksmith’s wife, a farmer’s six busty daughters, that barmaid whose honey she secretly tasted behind the bar in a tavern, and the curvaceous princess of Realm Kotmar, whose father still had a bounty on her head.
Usually, women fell for Ethne’s charms immediately. And why not? She was strong, beautiful, and good with her fingers. Peasants, noblewomen, even criminals Ethne had apprehended, all wound up lifting their skirts and spreading their thighs most eagerly. Lysa was the first woman in Ethne’s entire life who had ever expressed disdain for her. She didn’t know what to make of it, for clearly, Lysa was attracted to her, clearly she wanted Ethne and was pushing her away, but Ethne liked a challenge.
Ethne knew Lysa was playing hard-to-get. The little minx would let her gown sag open to reveal her cleavage, or bend over near Ethne, or suck on her fingers at supper . . . all the while giggling with the princess off to the side, that mischievous twinkle in her eye as she watched Ethne in her private hell of ecstasy.
Perhaps it was Ethne’s punishment for having called the small woman a peasant. Ethne, though disowned by her family, had never quite left behind her noblewoman’s mindset. In her mind, she could have anyone she wanted on command. It had always been that way. How she missed living in her father’s castle, waking up in her enormous bed with two of the servant girls naked on either side . . .
Now those days were over. And what was more, Lysa wasn’t impressed by the fact that Ethne was a Cawthorne. If anything, she didn’t seem to give a damn at all. Ethne still remembered when they first met in the tavern and how Lysa’s eyes had slid indifferently over the sparrow sigil on her armor. Lysa had recognized the sigil but she hadn’t cared . . . while Ethne was so used to women becoming excited when they saw her sigil. Lysa probably would have pissed on Ethne’s sigil if she could have.
All of this because Ethne called her a peasant? But that’s what she was! Other peasant women didn’t take offense. Why should Lysa? Ethne didn’t understand. All she knew was that she wanted her face between Lysa’s hot thighs, and she wouldn’t stop until it was buried there.
And so, as they continued east toward Hastow, Ethne continued her advances. Lysa still wouldn’t allow Ethne to assist her into the saddle and insisted on clumsily scrambling up on the horse every time they broke camp. Ethne didn’t mind, for it made Lysa’s little breasts flap, and sometimes her skirts flew up in the wind, showing her slip and panties.
If Lysa wanted to make a fool of herself, fine. Either way, she would have to share everything Ethne had – her horse, her saddle, even her skin of water, a fact which both pleased and amused Ethne endlessly, and seemed to annoy Lysa beyond measure.
They followed the road east, approaching Hastow at a steady pace. Hastow was a small town full of simple farm folk, and wasn’t at all far from the capital where Caradin Castle resided. The temple was always looking for knights to guard it due to its position on the road: it being situated in the middle of nowhere made it a prime target for bandits and rapists, and the Temple of Eyslath was full of young, virginal women who had sworn never to touch a man.
They made camp during the day and traveled always at night. Their fourth day on the road, they made camp beneath a gray sky loaded with clouds. As Ethne set stones in a circle and Lysa and Ava gathered firewood from the edge of the wood (this time keeping to the edge as Ethne advised them), Liadan walked around the camp, hand outstretched, using magick to erase their tracks in the snow.
“I don’t think anyone is following us,” Liadan said when Ethne drew near, “but it is better to be safe.”
“It’s strange, isn’t it?” said Ethne, frowning. “You’d think half the king’s men would be after us by now.”
“The way Ava tells it, there are a dozen secret passages out of the castle,” answered Liadan, “so they may have no idea which direction we’ve gone for now. Not many know of my sister in Hastow or that I would go to her.”
“That’s something at least.”
“Aye,” agreed Liadan.
They stood side by side for a moment, gazing off across the white fields they had left behind. In the distance, they could still see the dark silhouette of the capital, the rise of rooftops and towers and smoke. Already, the line of trees was beginning to obscure it. It made Ethne feel better, the more the trees blocked the place from view, as if they were hidden and safe from pursuit. She knew it wouldn’t last long, however. Eventually, King Eyvor’s hounds would find them.
Ethne glanced over her shoulder when she heard giggling: Lysa and Ava had returned from the edge of the wood, arms loaded with sticks and branches. Ethne hadn’t wanted to let them wander, but the edge of the wood wasn’t far and they didn’t actually venture in this time.
As Lysa and Ava set about laying the firewood in the circle of stones, they put their heads together and whispered. Their breasts swung down when they bent forward in their work. The princess’ great cleavage was apparent, and Lysa’s little breasts trembled, swinging behind the fabric. Ethne felt her sex stir with hunger and silently cursed that the women were wearing heavy fur cloaks. She could barely see their bodies.
“Would you cease your staring?” said Liadan irritably. “Can you think of nothing but sex?”
Ethne laughed, looking back around at Liadan. “Sex, ale, and slaying a worthy foe – that's what the wild women of Wildoras care about. You’re the most boring Wildoran I’ve ever known. You’re the only Wildoran I’ve ever known, but that’s beside the point.”
Liadan glanced grudgingly over at Lysa and Ava. They were standing upright now with their heads together, whispering and giggling like girls. They kept shooting glances at the knights and looked as if they were up to something, perhaps planning more ways to torment Ethne.
“Why do you indulge in these games with Lysa?” said Liadan, waving an irritable hand over at the women. “Just fuck her. Rip her gown away and fuck her. She wants it. She’s begging for it!”
Ethne lifted her brows thoughtfully. “Do you think I should?”
“She screamed for you, not I, when those foul ruffians did attack.”
“Hmm. That is true. But what if she were to slap me and scream rape?”
“She won’t slap you and scream rape,” said Liadan wearily. “She wants you to fuck her. She despises you, yes, but she wants you. And she likes this game. It amuses her to see you suffer with longing. Ava hath told me. Tis your punishment for what you called her.”
“What? A peasant?” Ethne snorted. “That’s exactly what she is! I’m not sorry.”
Liadan sighed. “You are a fool, but you are my fool,” she said, glancing at Ethne with great affection. “Here is what we shall do. After we break our fast, I shall take first watch. Then you can finally take Lysa in your bedroll and be done with this madness.”
“You promise not to look?” teased Ethne.
“On my honor,” said Liadan, smiling. “The two of you are like small babes. I grow weary of watching this fool game, and of listening to Ava laugh about it. She finds it as funny a jest as Lysa does, you realize? You are making a right fool of yourself.”
“But I’m your fool,” Ethne reminded her.
Liadan smiled wearily and clapped a gauntlet on Ethne’s shoulder.
***
THAT MORNING AFTER breakfast, Liadan kept her promise and took first watch. Princess Ava slipped into Liadan’s bedroll and immediately dropped off to sleep, and as usual, Lysa slipped into the bedroll she shared with Ethne and frostily turned on her side, turning her back to the knight.
Ethne smiled, slipping off her gauntlets and pulling the sheepskin over them both. Her hand roamed under the sheepskin and found Lysa’s round hip. Lysa gasped softly when she was touched and her back tensed.
“You dare!” Lysa hissed.
“Remove my hand, fair lady, if you do not want it there,” answered Ethne.
“Oh, so I’m a fair lady now, am I?” snapped Lysa.
Ethne smirked. “I see you did not remove my hand.” She chuckled when Lysa angrily slapped her hand off and let her hand fall to the bedroll. “Shall I place my hand elsewhere?” she whispered in Lysa’s ear.
Lysa shivered, and Ethne could see the bright blush on her cheek. “Why do you pursue me? I am just another conquest!” Lysa accused. “Ava told me what you are.”
“And what am I?” Ethne asked with some apprehension.
“A dog!” Lysa snapped. “Ava said that Liadan said you’ll fuck anything with tits!”
Ethne gritted her teeth, silently cursing Liadan. “That’s not true,” she said in a low voice and laughed bitterly. “I’ll fuck anything with nice tits.”
Lysa made an irritated noise. “Let me be,” she said.
“I can’t let you be,” Ethne whispered. “I think of you night and day.”
Lysa hesitated and whispered, “Don’t say such things . . .”
“Why?” Ethne whispered back. “They are true things. Does it truly bother you that I have called you a peasant? It’s what you are.”
“You think I’m beneath you! Of course, it bothers me!” Lysa whispered in amazement. “Now let me be that I might rest—”
“If I thought you beneath me, I wouldn’t even notice your existence,” Ethne said, “but I think of you all the time – of your lips, your eyes, your sweet smile. You haunt my dreams and you dominate my thoughts . . . You have conquered me, and yet you believe yourself the conquest. You have bewitched me and called me the witch.”
“You c-can't p-possibly feel that way about me,” whispered Lysa miserably.
Ethne frowned. “Why is it impossible?”
“Because I’m not p-pretty,” Lysa whispered in a very low voice.
Ethne frowned in sympathy, hesitated, and placed a soothing hand on Lysa’s shoulder. “Who told you that? And why were you foolhardy enough to listen?”
Lysa was miserably silent.
“I will show you how beautiful you are,” Ethne whispered in her ear, “if you will let me.”
Without warning, Lysa turned her face and kissed Ethne hard on the mouth. Ethne’s lashes fluttered, startled as she was by the sudden affection, but she quickly overcame her surprise, and as the lust blood filled her sex, she cupped the back of Lysa’s soft hair and kissed her back, sliding her tongue against the smaller woman’s with sudden hunger.
Lysa yielded sweetly, trembling all over as Ethne’s other hand explored her, groping at her skirts to pull them up, tugging almost impatiently at her panties. With sudden desperation, Ethne rolled over on her back, pulling Lysa on top of her beneath the sheepskin, so that they were both facing the sky. She could hear Lysa panting from their desperate kiss, could see her little breasts rising and falling, and taking the front of her gown in both hands, she gently tugged the laces loose, and Lysa’s little breasts slowly pushed free, standing perky from the fabric.
Lysa gasped, shocked and delighted, as her small breasts were gently groped in fistfuls, as her neck was kissed, as her thighs were caressed and then spread – and Ethne’s hand slid down her panties and massaged her fat little clitoris until she was sobbing in ecstasy, her pretty eyes suffering as she stared in shock at the underside of the sheepskin that was draped over them.
Still fingering Lysa carefully to a slow climax, Ethne watched the small woman’s face with narrow-eyed lust, watched as her cheeks blushed bright, as her sweet lips parted in gasps of baffled delight, and it occurred to her that this was Lysa’s first pleasure . . . She was a virgin!
Ethne carefully slid her fingers in Lysa’s sex and they were halted by her maidenhead, which was slowly loosening the more aroused Lysa became. Ethne fingered slower . . . then deeper as Lysa gasped and her maidenhead softened, admitting Ethne’s fingers. Her sex was tight and strong and slick with moisture.
Lysa wiggled against the pleasure, sighed and moaned, her little cheeks blushing brighter. She was baffled by what was happening to her, but she whispered for Ethne not to stop, she begged for it deeper, slower, and Ethne obeyed, kissing her tenderly on the cheek and the neck, stroking her little breast, thumbing the nipple.
Lysa was reaching a climax. Ethne drew her knees up, forcing Lysa’s thighs to spread wider, allowing her fingers further access, and Lysa blushed when she realized the reason for the maneuver. Then Ethne’s stroking fingers curled inside her, coaxing her pleasure to greater intensity, and she gasped as she released, thrusting her breasts against the sheepskin.
Ethne felt her sex release as well, could feel her clitoris throbbing, and deeply resented the fact that she was buckled in her armor. As Lysa lay on top of her, dazed and panting, she carefully pulled her fingers free and sucked the moisture from them. Lysa watched this in shock and blushed.
“Mmm,” Ethne said when she had sucked her fingers clean. “Your pussy tastes so sweet. As soon as we find a tavern or some other, I’m going to plow you all night long.”
Lysa gasped, though she was clearly delighted. “Don’t say such things! Such filthy talk!” she cried, appalled and yet amused.
“Would you let Liadan join in? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” asked Ethne shrewdly.
Lysa gasped, appalled and blushing to her hairline. “What? Of course, n-not!” she lied.
Ethne chuckled softly. “I have seen the way you look at her. I shall ask her, and then we both shall taste you.”
Lysa blushed brighter.
Ethne carefully closed her arms around Lysa and playfully kissed her cheek several times in a row. Lysa giggled and squirmed, and Ethne smiled, loving the sound. But her kisses became slower, and Lysa fell still, eyes hooded with pleasure as the kisses traveled down her cheek to her neck.
“I’ll plunge my tongue,” Ethne said between kisses, “so deep in your pussy . . . your sweet, wet pussy . . . And lick your clit until you burst . . . suck on it tenderly until you weep . . .”
Lysa shivered. She turned her face, and when she looked up at Ethne, her brown eyes were doting and afire with lust. Ethne was so startled that she halted. Then her eyes went to Lysa’s pink lips, and she kissed her hard on the mouth again. She was pleased when Lysa kissed her back just as passionately.