The Tale of Queen Arta Ch. 02 - Sex Stories

The Tale of Queen Arta Ch. 02

... effect. Either way, the cloth holds her attention long enough that the servants finish their work and the sunset is beginning before she finally diverts her gaze.

Arta rises and adjourns to her chambers. Her chamber maid knows to keep the fire lit but otherwise to stay outside the room, much like most nights, but worthy of particular reminding tonight. Such banal conversation past, she set Orrea's fabric beneath one of the many pillows on her bed. Arta looked to the window, longingly, seeing the quarter moon shining in seclusion and the myriad stars twinkling beyond. It was a peaceful night out. Romantic. The sort of night best spent... not alone.

But Arta was alone. She had ensured she would be. She had looked around, locked the door, latched the window, closed the curtains. If it were possible to achieve greater privacy, she didn't know how it would have been possible.

And yet, somehow, she did not feel alone. She felt eyes upon her as she slipped from her day-gown into her nightgown. She felt someone drinking in the contours of her body in those few moments of nudity. She could feel eyes loitering upon the slopes of her breasts, the toned muscles of her arms and legs, the soft curves of her ass, the soft swell of mons and its delicately-groomed thicket.

This unease extended even after she slipped under her bedsheets, even as she lay alone in her bed. She knew what she needed to do. She knew what she had to do. And yet that discomfort, that sensation of being ...

... watched lingered. She tied the thin cloth over her eyes as instructed. Despite its thinness and the crackling light of the fire, the cloth absorbed any light around her and even sound faded away. She was soon stuck within the scope of her mind, just as promised.

She tried to get in the mood, she really did, but her fingers and hands seemed as clumsy as her efforts overly-intentional. Her hands teased her breasts, her fingers stroked her nipples, her hands drifted lower and her thumb traced that site that usually brought forth such pleasure. But nothing seemed to work. No warmth, no heat, no excitement, no building pleasure. Her nipples didn't tighten, her breath didn't catch, her slit remained dry. She sighed in disappointment and went to pull the cover from her eyes.

But as she moved, something changed. She wasn't sure quite what. It was probably a few things but they shifted so simultaneously and so effectively that Arta's mind didn't quite process them until they'd been so stretched out over time that it didn't really matter. The cloth seemed to heat up. It seemed to glow with the colors of the cosmic recesses between the stars... pale green, neon magenta, a deep violet flaring indigo, and the occasional starburst of golden yellow. Her hands, mid-motion, were suddenly pulled beneath the pillows about her head. They moved by external force but were not held in place by anything, immobile as they were. And, at the same time, she felt something. Or somethings. Touch ...