Only a Taste

Word Count: 1999

Look at the picture above and let yourself step into their world. What are they feeling? Where are they? Are they lovers like the picture suggests? Is their relationship new or old? Is it a fling or true love? You decide! Let your imagination take control and spin me a sexy tale of passion.   

  She watched him enter the tavern from the corner of her eye. Tristan was not a man to be trifled with. His rough demeanor and rippling muscles only added to his superior title. Nevertheless, Isolde's heart sped up in anticipation as he neared the bar and took a seat. She set down the glass she'd been mindlessly cleaning for the past five minutes and walked down to his position at the bar. She looked once again on his perfectly chiseled features with awe and resentment. Why did a face so beautiful have to belong to a man so damnable haughty, she asked herself. It was just plain sinful. When she stopped in front of him she became caught in the deep emerald color of his eyes. A grin swept over his face and she averted her eyes as a blush spread over her cheeks.

    "Is there anything I can get for you, m'lord?" she asked, her voice, much to her chagrin, unsteady.

    "I'll have a fresh pint of ale," he replied in a deep, seemingly seductive voice. She ducked her head acquiescently and moved down to grab their cleanest mug and poured ale from their freshest barrel. She silently berated herself for her earlier foolish behavior then made her way back to her waiting patron.

    "There you are sir," she said, "May I get you anything else?" He seemed to contemplate her question rather seriously as he studied every part of her. She could feel the crimson stain planning to once more invade her cheeks and when he didn't answer she ducked her head and began to move back down the bar.

    "Wait," he said in a commanding tone. She stopped on a dime and turned back to him. The sly grin on his face and the devilish gleam in his eyes made her weak at the knees.

    "Yes m'lord?" she questioned hesitantly.

    "You sloshed this ale and I want you to clean it up," he said gesturing to his now wet trousers. Indignation rose up inside her like a geyser, threatening to burst. The words were loosed from her mouth before she could stop them.

    "I did no such thing," she retorted. Her eyes widened at her own bold words and she could see a fresh beating around the corner. Tristan's eyes widened as well and surprise showed on his features before, it seemed, pride came in and took control.

    "Are you calling me a liar?" he demanded rising up from his seat at the bar. Panic seared through her body and alarm became evident on her features.

    "No, m'lord. I was merely suggesting, I mean... of course you wouldn't lie, but-," she clamored for the right thing to say but speech seemed to have left her. She quickly grabbed a rag and hurried around the bar throwing herself down to her knees in front of him. "Let me clean that for you sir," she pleaded keeping her eyes down and dabbing at the front of his trousers. She could feel his gaze penetrating the top of her head and she could only pray he showed mercy on her. She tried to avoid the center of his wet trousers, but in order to dry him properly, it was inevitable. Much to her dismay she could see him beginning to get aroused and she stopped immediately. Wanton thoughts raced through her mind and she snubbed them at once. He was humiliating her and still she felt desire for him! She sat back on her heels unsure of how to proceed. She lifted her gaze only to be met with one of lust and anger and fire. He lifted her to a standing position and shoved her against the wall pressing the full length of his body against hers.

    "You know you will have to be punished, don't you wench?" he breathed out against her ear. She merely nodded in reply too stunned to speak which seemed to incense him further. "Answer me aloud when I ask you a question," he growled, biting the tip of her earlobe. The action sent a spark through her body and she closed her eyes in rapture.

    "Yes m'lord. I must be punished m'lord. Please punish me," she moaned. Her words were shocking even to her own ears but she had dreamed of being with the Lord Tristan for quite some time now. He wrenched away from her and shouted for the barkeep. An older man of about forty rounded the corner and his eyes grew as large as saucers at the sight of the lord and the young maiden.

    "Man the bar," Tristan ordered, "I have need of this wench." The barkeep merely nodded his head and murmured his assent. Tristan turned, grabbed Isolde, and dragged her up the stairs to the spare room upstairs. The whole situation felt sublimely surreal as she worked to keep pace and was carelessly tossed onto the bed. Tristan closed and locked the door behind them before turning to look upon her with a look now devoid of anger. The lust in his eyes was far too blatant on his face and she merely stayed on the bed transfixed by his predatory gleam. "Off the bed and on your knees," he ordered.

    "Yes sir," she answered moving herself to the appropriate position. Her heart hammered like the wings of a hummingbird in her chest ready to burst free. He walked forward to stand directly in front of her.

    "Now I want you to do a better job of cleaning up your mess," he ordered. Anger bubbled inside her once more but she silently chastised herself. After all, it had been her temper that landed her here. She tried to ignore the fact that here was a place she really like being in. Slowly she began to lift the hem of her skirt but was stopped by his disapproving noise. She looked up to him trying to discern what she'd done wrong.

    "With your mouth," he answered to her silent question. A gasp escaped her lips in astonishment but his serious gaze remained unchanged. She had never used her mouth on a man before. Not that she hadn't had sex before, it was just that this act seemed more intimate.

    She leaned forward and placed her open mouth on the left thigh of his trousers. Sucking softly she could taste the drops of ale drawn into her mouth. The blood raced in her ears as she drew closer to his manhood which was growing ever slightly. When she placed her mouth over his center she could feel his cock pulsing just under the thin cloth. A groan sounded above her and she looked up to see his eyes closed and his head tossed back in bliss. The sight empowered her and she hesitantly reached her hands up to grab his firm butt cheeks and drew him closer. The pressure of her sucking increased and she took him slightly into her mouth through the fabric.

    His hands reached down to tangle in her hair and pull her head closer. Her mouth felt like heaven and he longed to be rid of his trousers. He pulled her head back and reached down to unfasten his restrictive trousers. He freed himself and watched her as surprise flickered over her features. He took it as a good thing and guided his cock to her mouth.

    Tristan's cock was larger than any other man's she had seen and it looked... well different. There was much less skin and she found it to be somewhat more appealing to the eye. She opened her mouth curious for this new experience. The skin was warm and salty against her tongue which she swirled around the head of his growing cock. He jerked in her mouth and she cast her eyes up to see him watching her with a hunger in his eyes. The look alone sent a zap of pleasure straight through her body and she sucked on him harder with a moan. The waves of pleasure lapping his body were threatening to make him lose control and he had hardly even begun. He gently pulled out his rock hard cock and moved around her to sit on the bed.

    "I want you to strip for me," he said, "Slowly." Adrenaline poured into her veins and she fought to keep herself from fleeing. First, she pulled on the strings holding her corset together. With trembling fingers she removed the corset and let it fall to the floor.

    "I want you to look at me as you do this," he commanded from the bed. She let her eyes travel upwards as embarrassment flooded her cheeks. Second, she untied her skirt and let it fall to the floor keeping her eyes on his own. The agony of stripping began to lose its sway as she met his lust filled eyes. She brought her hands to the bottom of her top and slowly pulled it up and over, reaching up her arms and allowing her breasts to stretch upwards. When she was completely nude she stalked toward him at which point he grabbed her roughly and crushed her against him. He held one of her breasts and found it was the perfect size to fit his fingers. The other he drew into his mouth and suckled fiercely. Moans left her mouth unbidden and he reveled in the simple praise. The pleasure he was giving her filled her with such longing she thought she might burst.

    "Take me now, Lord Tristan. Please take me now," she moaned out. He kneaded her breasts and looked to her face filled with rapture. He wanted to make her scream his name in ecstasy.

    "Not quite my lover," he replied with a grin, appreciating her eagerness. He rose up and turned them around, pushing her back down onto the bed with her legs dangling off the end. Kneeling down he pulled her luscious entrance closer and swept his tongue over her opening. She moaned and clutched the sheets with balled fists. He lapped at her sweet juices and nipped her outer folds working her into a frenzy. Finally he brought his lips to the bud of her clitoris and clamped down sucking and kissing. Her orgasm rushed over her unexpectedly and she screamed his name to the room locking her legs around his head. He drank her down like a fine wine and brought her down slowly from her orgasm. She released the python grip that her legs had held on his head and let out a contented sigh, gazing down on him languidly.

    He stood up and slipped his clothes off to expose his rich tanned muscles and throbbing erection. He climbed over her and she brought her knees up, parting her thighs to allow him entrance. He lifted her legs to his shoulders and poised himself at her entrance. His need for her was deep and burning and with a shout he slammed into her causing a small cry to leave her body and wrenching another orgasm from her. His breath left him in a hiss as her tight pussy clamped down harder on him as she rode out her orgasm. When it had at last subsided he lowered her legs and then pulled out only to slam down on her once more. This time she lifted her hips to meet his and he lost himself, thrusting into her with abandon. Her body gripped him tighter and she raked her nails over his back, eliciting a shout from him as he spilled himself into her. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him in tighter rubbing herself against him until she was climaxing yet again only this time, with him.

    Tristan collapsed on top of her then bonelessly fell to the side on the bed, sleep overwhelming him. Isolde curled herself next to him and could only hope that this was only a taste of what was to come.