Lady Novice

Everyone knows the story of Aveline de Mireval, though few remember that she was once only a novice, and that even novices have erotic fantasies.

Aveline runs up the stairs with her skirts gathered in both hands, the feeling of eyes on her back driving her around the last corner where she finds herself facing a door. She pushes down on the iron latch, gives the bottom a kick, and it opens into silk and moving bodies, hands all over her, mouths leaving wet trails over her skin, the bed rocking beneath her.

A cock drives deep inside her, a woman’s tongue circles her nipple softly and another alternates between blowing across her clit and licking it. Silk tangles around her wrists though her hands are free and closing around a man’s cock, pulling him closer as she wraps her lips around it.

Fingers slide into her while nails scrape lightly over her skin and a hand lifts her knee. The bed is gone. She is on her knees with bodies above her, behind her, over her, and slick skin everywhere, someone telling her to open.

She kisses a woman whose tongue tastes like sweet wine. A mouth at her neck kisses softly, teeth nibbling at her ear. Fingers twist in her long dark hair and hands spread her wider, and somewhere beyond the bodies, she can still feel those eyes on her.

The candles flicker and the hands on her slow down when a door opens somewhere beyond the bed and Lord Chronicler steps through, his long beard falling over his chest, his eyes finding hers through the tangle of limbs.

Lord Deep follows, broad enough to darken the doorway, heat entering with him and the bed dipping though he has not touched it, until the man between her thighs draws back to make room.

Cold air cuts through the chamber and the bodies clear to reveal Lord Warden standing in battle-scarred armour with a sword catching the light in his hand as he looks at her lying among the bodies, and something in his expression makes her clench hard around the fingers inside her cunt. The fingers curl against her, and her hips jerk in response.

She hears her name being called and sees Lord Keep standing before her, his blonde hair blowing around him, and she gets lost in his smile, when out of the dark, a hand reaches for her and Aveline wants to reach for it, but the bed drops beneath her.

As she falls, the hands on her catch her, silk turning rough against her skin as the bare bodies become dark habits and veils, women pulling her down between them until her knees strike cold stone.

Aveline twists away and runs through a passage that stretches endlessly ahead of her until she stops short at the sight of a veiled figure watching her from the far end.

A door opens beside her, with Lord Keep standing beyond it, and Aveline throws herself through as the stone passage turns into a carriage, Lord Chronicler’s fingers resting on her knee while Lord Deep’s thigh presses heavily against hers.

Lord Warden watches her, eyes burning, and Lord Keep lifts his palm. She reaches for it and the moment his fingers close around hers, heat runs through her from the tips of her fingers to deep within her cunt. He leads her through towering gates into the grand hall of the Keep.

Now he is above her, his eyes piercing hers as the bed falls away, and the hall returns around them, accompanied by more bodies. Naked women and men gather around her, bowing, reaching for her, touching one another. Her hands wander over breasts and bellies, between thighs, and over faces all of them leaning in to kiss her, and among them she recognises lovers, maids, guards, novices, teachers, Louna, Lord Warden, his fingers sliding into Aveline’s long hair, lifting it from her neck.

He bends and kisses her hard before his lips leave hers for her throat, and she tips her head back, pressing her hips back into Lord Deep’s rough grip as he holds her open from behind, thumbs biting into her thighs, his breath hot against the back of her neck and Lord Chronicler grips her chin and turns her face toward him, making sure she looks at him while the others touch her.

Lord Keep’s fingers loosen the strings of her nightgown and slide the fabric from her shoulders drawing it slowly down her arms. She is kissed all over her body while voices whisper milady against her skin, and the words turn her on more than anything anyone has done to her.

At the edge of the hall, the veiled figure is watching her again.

Fuck me now. Quickly.

She reaches down, freeing their cocks and thick, hard, hot flesh fills her hands. She strokes one, feels the heat of another against her thigh, wanting them all inside her so badly it aches.

“This is what you want, is it not, Aveline?”

Yes, all of it.

“The Keep. Your Lords. Everyone here.”

All for me. I want them all.

Aveline groans and starts shaking, a hand trying to close on her shoulder.

The watcher is beside her now, lifting the veil, and for a moment Aveline is looking into her own face, except the hair falling around it is blonde.

“Eva… Leave me be.”

“Wake up, Miss Aveline.” The hand shakes her shoulder.

Oh, fuck off, Louna.

“Come on, Miss.”

“Leave me alone. I don’t want to pray. I was having fun…”

Oh, Goddess, I’m so fucking horny.

She pulls her blanket over her head, listening to the footsteps of the other novices as they leave the dormitory, but if anything, the hand on her shoulder becomes firmer.

Hmm, maybe Louna could be useful.

“We’re late as it is. The bell already rang. You don’t want to anger Mother Superior again.”

So much for that, and fuck Mother Superior too.

“Fine. I’m getting up.”

The dream is already slipping away, but its heat remains between her thighs, and almost without thinking she slips one hand between her legs.

I’m sopping. Whatever that was about, it was fucking good.

The painted portrait of the four Lords above her bed catches her eye, and the dream comes back into focus.

Goddess, not that dream again. I really need to stop thinking of them. They’re Eva’s lords, for fuck’s sake. Not mine.

“Were you dreaming of your sister again?” Louna asks.

That sweet mouth. Those gorgeous tits under that ugly novice shift. Should’ve been dreaming of your cunt instead.

“Yes,” Aveline lies. “I miss her.”

That much is true.

Aveline’s hand goes to her shaven head before she can stop it, the rough stubble catching against her palm.

“I miss brushing your hair, Miss Aveline.”

“Please, don’t call me Miss.”

“Yes, Miss Aveline,” Louna repeats.

“We’re both novices now. Just Ava will do.”

Miss was for the girl I used to be.

Spare daughters of old noble houses are placed close enough to be called back if needed, and far enough to be forgotten if not.

Like every morning, breakfast is porridge with a slice of goat’s cheese in the cold refectory, somehow good enough for Louna to tuck into as if it were actual food.

Mother Superior walks between the tables with her hands hidden in her sleeves, and everyone, including Aveline, straightens as she passes.

Thin mouth. Hair pulled so tight under her veil it makes her eyes look narrower. Back straight as a poker. Have you ever slouched once in your life?

“Well done this morning, Novice Louna.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

Mother Superior looks at Aveline. “Remember, child. You were trained for a life of service.”

Here we go again.

“Yes, Mother.”

Thank you, Goddess. We are finally moving beyond the speech.

Louna waits until she is gone, then says in Mother Superior’s voice, “Remember, child.”

“Don’t.”

“Service to the Goddess is like service to the Mountain.”

And maybe it is.

Louna, once her maid, is practical, surprisingly ambitious, and has a taste for adventure.

Back at the castle, I never noticed you. I just took you for granted, a shadow who brushed my hair, annoying and convenient at the same time.

And now you’re all that’s left from my old life, eating that porridge like we might actually survive this.

“Can I finish your cheese, Miss Aveline?”

Aveline catches Louna’s wrist, turns her hand palm-up and drops the cheese into it.

“Ava.”

Just Ava.

Louna leaves her hand there until Aveline lets go.

All my life, I was taught by the best how to empty a man’s balls whenever I needed to. And here I am, learning from my maid how to scrub floors, milk goats, and eat her cunt.

It’s something.

And so life in the convent went on, dreary day in and day out, until one night, Aveline wakes screaming.

“Eva!”

Louna’s arms tighten around her before Aveline even knows she is awake.

“You’re having a nightmare again, Miss Ava.”

For one moment, Aveline expects Eva. Eva’s hand. Eva’s whisper in the dark.

But the arm around her is Louna’s, and has been for weeks now.

“It was Eva. Something’s wrong. I know it.”

Her eyes dart to the wall where the portrait of the four Lords used to hang before she had Louna throw it away.

“You’re just missing her. Let me take care of you, Miss Ava. Let me take your mind off it.”

Leave me alone. You have no idea what it means to be a twin.

Except she wants Louna’s hands, her warm skin against her, her fingers, the familiar weight of her body in the narrow bed.

You can never take Eva’s place.

Louna’s hand slides down Aveline’s stomach to part her thighs, her fingers slowly stroking Aveline’s clit.

Aveline lets her, and although the fear does not leave, her hips lift into Louna’s hand.

Louna keeps stroking until Aveline comes quietly, tears wet on her face as she thinks of Eva.

Afterwards, Louna hugs her tightly until sleep takes her.

Weeks turned into chants, washing linen, lentil mash, and diluted wine, and perhaps Aveline started to think it might even become a good life.

She is on her knees in the vegetable beds when Louna tells her about Father Jona.

“You didn’t… Oh, by the Goddess, you did.” Aveline sits back on her heels. “Lou, you’re such a slut.”

“I’m the Goddess’ child, Ava. Father Jona said so himself.”

“If Mother Superior hears of this, she’ll give you the strap.”

“Nothing I haven’t had before, Ava.”

“Lucky for you, I’m so good at kissing the marks after.”

“Maybe I should tell Mother Superior, then.”

“And by the way,” Louna adds, “Father Jona said he would be happy to bless you too.”

Goddess, I’ll take any cock by now. Even his.

“Did he really say that?”

Louna only smiles.

The gate opens and Sister Silia steps into the garden.

Aveline lowers her voice. “Looks like I’ll be kissing strap marks tonight.”

“Good afternoon, novices.”

“Good afternoon, Sister Silia,” they say together.

“Novice Aveline, Mother Superior wants to see you in her office at once.”

Louna gives the smallest shrug.

Oh, fuck you, Lou. Not the first time I get strapped for your sins.

“Novice Louna, you may continue with the gardening.”

Just me, then.

Lou. You will owe me properly tonight.

Aveline follows the covered path toward the main building, mud still clinging to her knees.

Fuck me, Father Jona. Who would have thought that old bore had anything worth sinning for?

A real cock will beat those carrots we’ve been smuggling into our room. Worth a strapping any day.

Steady. Maybe this has nothing to do with the old fucker.

Tomazh is waiting outside Mother Superior’s office.

Ah, Tomazh. One of the better bodies the twins had practised on under the watchful eyes of the best seduction teachers in the Four Realms.

Every thought of Father Jona disappears.

Goddess, you’ve answered my prayers.

Tomazh.

Mireval’s captain of the guard. Broad shoulders, strong hands, and a nice hard cock.

I remember lying warm in your arms afterwards, in my own bed, your hand moving lazily through my hair while my whole life was waiting for me. Goddess, I miss that girl.

And Lou is going to lose her mind when she hears you’re here.

Aveline reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear, but her fingers find only the edge of her veil and the rough stubble beneath it.

“Tomazh!”

She throws herself into his arms, his hands closing around her waist and gripping hard.

“I missed you so much,” she whispers against his ear. “Did you come just for me? Because you have no idea how badly I need you right now.”

Come on. Carry me somewhere. A storeroom, an empty cell, the woods. Anywhere you can plant that cock of yours deep inside me.

Then she feels his grip loosen.

“My lady Aveline.” He gently pulls her arms from his neck. “This is not seemly.”

“You haven’t called me Aveline in forever. And I’m no lady anymore,” she adds, trying to kiss him.

He stops her carefully.

What’s the matter?

“Lady Aveline, please. Lord Mireval waits inside.”

“My father?”

Only my father could spoil this moment.

“Why?”

Why would he even bother to visit me?

Tomazh presses one finger lightly to her lips. He used to do that during her lessons, when she got too eager trying to keep him hard, chasing every breath, every twitch, any sign that she had found the right way to please him. One finger to her mouth, and she knew. ‘Slow down, you’re overthinking it, stop trying so hard.’

But this is not that because his face is wrong.

“Tomazh?”

He opens the door.