The Passion of Agnes Part 1 - Sex Stories

The Passion of Agnes Part 1

... nearly painless, another had been exorcised of demons. It seemed that every woman in France had attempted, or would soon attempt to bathe, in the waters blessed by holy Agnes. Monsieur performed the outward signs of respect and devotion but I always knew that the god Mammon alone ruled his niggardly heart. However he could not very well deny to me what was so en vogue among all the ladies of quality in France at that time. And so myself, Cordelia, my other ladies, at least those that M. could spare from the maintenance of the castle and many of my friends and peers from the aristocracy of Rouen found ourselves on pilgrimage. We rode slowly, savoring the fragrant spring. We made flower garlands, weaving them into each others hair. We were happy, excited and at peace. We were due to arrive at the cure in a couple of hours. It would be twilight when we arrived but the sun was still bright in the sky and the birds still vented their joy. We were hungry and the horses and mules needed water so we stopped, spread a blanket and ate a humble meal. Some of the girls led the animals to be watered, some did their private business. I, in a grateful and hopeful mood walked along a deserted path, careful not to go too far. Light, filtered and softened, fell through the bowers of the trees. Seedlings spun and mutely crashed to the forest floor. All was peaceful. All was pure. I looked up and gasped in shock. I had thought myself alone. Now stood before me a young woman of unsurpassable ...

... beauty. Only the shimmering ebony hair that enfolded her entire figure covered her nudity. As pale as though the sun had never touched her, her whiteness yet glowed in the muted shadows of the forest. Her arms and legs were of such supple proportions that to my mind no one could be as worthy of love and devotion as she. Her burning emerald eyes were powerful and fierce yet looked at me with kindness and indulgence. I was sure that I was beholding the holy St Agnes herself. She walked towards me slowly, our eyes fixed together, my heart racing. As she walked, her form became visible and I could see the globes of her perfect breasts, the divine pink of her nipples. I was hypnotized. Was this Agnes or a witch, a minion of the unholy tempter? She carried an apple. I reached but just as my fingertips touched the fruit I was startled by a loud, "Agnes!" my maidens calling me back to continue the journey. I turned for the merest second and when I looked back she was gone. We arrived at the cure shortly after nightfall. Our squires erected a pavilion for us, Cordelia and I taking the largest and most sumptuous tent. A certain squire, Grimaldus, a strapping fellow, settled us in and cooked our meal. He seemed extremely attentive and was always at hand which made me grateful at the time. Neither of us could sleep as we lay in our beds. Cordelia was all high spirits and giggles but I was more pensive. I pondered whether to reveal my vision to her in confidence and what she would make of it. ...