May/June 2003
Under Orion's Bow
by FineArt


He awoke to the sound of an owl hooting, the howl of a coyote not far away. Shunning the chill of the early fall, he slipped into his trousers, a rough woolen shirt and boots of soft leather. Quietly, he exited the tent that was his home away from home. He stretched, pushing the stiffness and mental numbness away as his eyes turned to the west.

The sky was clear. No clouds held the warmth to the earth. The moon, nearing full, was low on the horizon. The stars shone brightly. He scanned the skies for old friends. There was Mars, the red planet... his protector. And mighty Jupiter, stalwart of the heavens.

He walked through the woods toward the babbling of a stream. Only the sentries were awake at this hour, sharing the dark with the woodland's creatures of the night. He sat on the ground, leaning back against a large oak. Could he had seen the leaves, he would have found a bouquet of brilliant reds, yellows and browns welcoming the fall. The moon shed a ribbon across the quiet pond in front of him. Water finding it's way over the log jam that created the pond sent back a comforting serenade. Each morning, as the others slept, he came here. Here he found his solace.

This was his time of day. He came here each morning to relieve the stresses, to collect his thoughts... and to think of her.

It had been well over a year now since they had shared one another... since he had reveled in her gift to him. Her gift was his most cherished possession, what brought him the heights of joy and reason for being. Her gift was the gift of herself.
As he sat, his eyes exploring the skies, he sought another friend and his mind moved back to his time with her. His thoughts went first to their talks, their plans for great things and their sharing of deep feelings. They shared things together that neither could ever share with any other.

He had encouraged and guided her to move into her position of responsibility and influence. He was proud of all that she had done, of what she was doing now. She was a woman succeeding in a man's world. But now, it was these very responsibilities that kept them apart.

He stared up into the heavens, thankful for another friend he found there.

He closed his eyes; his hands rubbing his forehead as his elbows rested on his raised knees. His thoughts turned to their intimate times together, to the private chambers that they shared. As his mind drifted back, he could feel the warmth of her body, the smoothness of her flesh, the curves of her hips. His fingers twitched as, in his mind, they wound themselves through her long, golden hair, stroking it, pulling it. His fingers tried to dig into his forehead as they had into her full breasts. He could feel her nipples hardening, pressing into the palms of his hands. He could hear her soft moans, feel her body responding to his caresses... he felt his own stirrings as in his mind her hips rose, seeking his fingers as they eagerly explored the essence of her gender. The musky smells of the forest were pushed aside, replaced by the aromas of her lust as his hands moved together, fingers interlocked. He could feel her growing hot and wet as the flower of her womanhood burst from its hiding place under his attentions.

He opened his eyes at the sound of a branch snapping someplace nearby... a deer perhaps, or a sentry relieving himself. As his eyes again sought the constellation in the western sky, his thoughts turned to the darker pleasures he found in her. In the privacy of their chambers, she shed the attire and adornments of their public lives. And with them she shed her drive to make things happen, to direct her surroundings and those around her. As she bared her body, she gave to him every thing that was her... needing only to serve him... to be used by him in any way he desired.

The snap of the branch had flooded his mind with other memories of her... the sound of his hand as it landed on her alabaster buttocks and thighs. He heard her yelp as the whip decorated her with bright red stripes and welts. A slight breeze stirred the leaves on the long, sturdy oak branch that stretched toward the pond above his head and his mind was filled with the beauty of her when she was bound and stretched toward the heavy beams in the ceiling of their chambers. He closed his eyes and his hands reached out to explore her as he had done so often... caressing her cheek, lifting and digging his fingers into her marvelous breasts. He extended the middle and index fingers of his right hand as he had done so often as he plumbed the hot, wet, eager secrets that lay hidden between her long and well formed legs... secrets denied to all others.

He had to move, to adjust his position as his manhood swelled at these thoughts of her. He felt the wonders of her as she sought to please him... recalled as though she was here, kneeling before him. He closed his eyes and emitted a low moan as he felt her cupping the furred sac that swayed below his swollen shaft... felt her tongue teasingly circle the head of his shaft or draw along the thick vein that ran its length, bringing excruciating pleasure.

His mind was a million leagues and a million days from his responsibilities here in the forest as he felt her take him deep into her mouth or between her breasts... bringing him to the apex of sexual pleasure. And he recalled the many ways that she became the sheath to his blade... how she tightened to hold him inside of her when two became one... merging their souls along with their bodies.

His thoughts changed as a large fish jumped from the water. The smooth lines of the moon's reflection became jagged and blurred, then slowly calmed again. At times, he took her gently, caressing and holding her as they made love. More often, their coupling was wild and rough... mixed with her shrieks and yelps as his fingers dug deeply into her flesh or struck any part of her body as they crashed together in their passion.

His eyes moved to the full moon as it crept closer to the horizon and his thoughts to her, kneeling on the edge of their bed, legs spread, her buttocks raised, breasts and shoulders pressed into the sheets and blankets, arms stretched toward the far side of the bed. He savored the look and feel of the arch of her back when she presented herself to him in this way... so open, totally available to him for his pleasure and use.

She would completely lose herself in her passion as he would take her from behind, his hands striking her buttocks as he first pounded into the silky, wet tunnel, then plunged into Sodom's Gate. Her efforts would match his as they crashed together, his hips against her buttocks, his hands pulling at her hips with each thrust, the stones in his sac slapping at her inner thighs and the flower of her sex.

He heard the clank of a pan back in the camp. The cook was beginning his preparations for the break of day. He had only a few more moments he could call his own.

Outside of their chambers, others catered to their every need... she beside him receiving the loyalty and often the admiration of others. But in their chambers, she served him. Often she was adorned only in the jewelry that dangled from her ears, her breasts and the flower that sprang from the lips of her slit to honor him. She kept her mons cleanly shaven in the manner of a common slave as a part of her gift to him, to honor him.

He leaned back against the tree, closed his eyes and recalled his last moments with her before their parting. There had been few words between them all night, their words had been exchanged in the days prior. Her body had born the marks of his loving of her, his enjoyment of her, his use of her in his dark way. Her thighs, back and buttocks were streaked and welted from where her has struck her. Her breasts were swollen, her nipples sensitive to even a feather's touch from his attentions. The soft folds between her legs were swollen and tender from heavy use as well as her anticipation of more. Her legs were so shaky, she was so exhausted, that she could no longer stand on her own. Yet she had begged him for more of his use of her through the long night.

He had finished by binding her wrists and ankles to the posts at the four corners of their bed. Their coupling had been rough, noisy. Both had screamed out their passion for one another as he erupted deep inside of her. Her release, the last of many that night, left her breathless, her breasts heaving heavily with her panting. He had risen from atop her, pausing only to cut one of the satin ropes that bound a wrist so she could free herself later. His last vision of her had been in the flickering light of the candles burning beside the bed. It was burned into his memory like an uncontrolled fire.

There had been tears on her cheeks... a mixture of the emotional pain of his leaving and their dark physical pleasures. Her breasts were heaving as she recovered, and the light showed clearly the sheen on her inner thighs from the remnants of their mating, their loving.

He sighed deeply... soon, before the winter's snows, she would join him here. It had been so long since he had held her, felt her breath, heard her voice... enjoyed the wonders of her body. Soon... soon.

He sighed again as he lifted himself from the ground. The day would quickly be upon him with all its demands. He did not need to turn to know that the predawn light was creeping along the eastern horizon behind him. The day was no longer his own.
Before returning to his tent and all that awaited him, he looked once again into the western sky. Here, in the east, the constellation of the Great Hunter was growing dim with the coming dawn. In the mountains far to the west, the stars still shone brightly.

And he knew that that she was safe... protected...

under Orion's bow.

© 2000, FineArt - All rights reserved