Octavia made her way along the narrow walkway which led to the crannog roundhouse. The equinox gathering would feature a re-enactment of an ancient pagan festival going back in time to the year AD 500. As Octavia drew closer, it was obvious that she was one of the last to arrive. The rest of the party were already in jovial spirits and drinking wine from pewter goblets and singing heartily. She then caught sight of her friend Gwendolyn and made her way across to sit with her at the huge banqueting table.

“Hi Gwendolyn, all set for the pairing later on then?” she asked, noting her friends beautiful dress which showed a slender waist and voluptuous breasts.

“Sure, it’s not as if Henry and me, er, I mean Azarius and me don’t know each other, we’ve been meeting twice a week for the last year remember.”

“Hmm, how could I forget,” said Octavia casting him a coy gaze. “Do you think he’s husband material though?”

“Honey, he’s built like an ox and can keep me satisfied, so who cares,” said Gwendolyn, taking a sip of the wine then giving Henry a sultry smile as he sat watching her.

“Huh, I suppose you two are promised to each other already then.”

Gwendolyn turned back to Octavia and rested a hand on her thigh.

“There’s always room for you too… don’t you want to at least try?”

Octavia gaped at her friend like she’d just uttered an obscenity. Of course she would never consider such an act, although, she did like hearing about it. Gwendolyn was rather good at describing the details of what she and Henry got up to. It had made her blush at first, but they seemed to have such fun, and Gwendolyn made cunnilingus sound like it was the most enjoyable thing in the world. All Octavia had ever known was missionary, but listening to such kinky goings on from Gwendolyn had only made her jealous. Perhaps someday she’d get to try it all, with her own partner.

Octavia gave Gwendolyn a smile and turned her attention back to the table where the Thanksgiving feast was just about to commence. Equinox had always been a special time in the village, and the sights and sounds surrounding her gave the impression that she was in fact living in a by-gone-era. The air was laced with the smell of spit roasted boar, smoke from the roundhouse chimney, and carnal lust. Their garments had been custom made by a local seamstress who had sewn the fabrics from tweed, silk, linen and lace. And a sailing ship regatta was going on in the busy bay some distance away. It was all very, self-gratifying.

As the story goes, Azaruis was due to take a wife on the anniversary of his parents wedding. His people, the Osgars, lived in the city of Katongue deep within the rugged hillsides surrounding the villages. Gwendolyn would by all intent and purposed live by their rules. But her own peopl, the Crannaigs still owned her, and had a say as to how any future offspring were raised and educated. And in adulthood, who they themselves were paired with.

Octavia shifted in her seat as the over-indulgent feast continued. The dress that had been especially designed for her was of beautiful cream damask and had elaborate lace detail, her dark hair had been set in ringlets, accentuating her fine features and drawing admiring looks from the men folk of the group. This was something Octavia wasn’t used to, and she found it to be somewhat unsettling. It was as if she too was being sized up as a potential wife.

The ale and fine wines continued to flow, as did the conversation. Octavia found herself locked in flirtatious talks with a Nevan, a very handsome and attentive neighbour to her left. She gazed at his dark eyes, sipped her wine and couldn’t help but wonder whether he’d be as good as Henry beneath the sheets.

“Are you okay?” he asked, watching Octavia continually fidget in her seat.

“Urgh, I thinks so, I am listening, really,” she said trying to loosen the corset undergarment that was slowly crippling her.

Nevan gave a knowing grin. “They didn’t dress to be comfortable, I could loosen it off for you, before you pass out,” he suggested, raising his brow in concern.

Octavia observed him for a moment. With all the furore that was going on at the table, and not forgetting the steady stream of wine that was gradually making her forget her reservations - her senses were blurred. But if she sat there much longer entrapped in the corset, she would surely faint and miss out on the wedding ceremony that was planned for later.

“Perhaps we should excuse ourselves, so you can attend to me in my hour of need,” she recommended, in all seriousness. Her tone made no sexual nuance.

Neven’s eyes glowed brightly and his mouth creased into a smile as he got to his feet.

“Please, may I?” he said in true tradition, and extending his hand to escort Octavia to the roundhouse.

As they departed the table Octavia caught her friends eye, her look seemed to imply that she approved of Neven, and whatever was about to happen, if anything. Of course Octavia could just have asked Gwendolyn for help. But, Neven was from a good family and he seemed respectful to her lack of sexual ambiguity. In fact, he seemed to rather like her sweet and to a certain degree, innocent nature.

As they left the table, the party of pagan settlers seemed not to notice, and continued their festivities, chanting long forgotten songs, that Octavia only had a vague recollection of. The main concern was to have her constricted assets freed of their current war cry. Soon they arrived in the much more serene atmosphere of the roundhouse, which had been completely restored by the local trust to that of its original state.

The women who had served food, wine and ale busied themselves with the washing up and paid them little attention but for a polite smile. Octavia gazed up at Neven who appeared to be looking to her for some sign that she was just about to pull him into the nearest side room and have her way.

Octavia could feel the fission of expectation. She wasn’t completely oblivious to his eagerness. But at least he wasn’t all over her. She had consented to him giving assistance, so perhaps a little dalliance wasn’t off the cards. After a minute Octavia noticed a sign for the Ladies restroom and made haste with Neven following close behind. She then pushed open the door to find some bathroom facilities and also a changing area. At least it was private enough to allow Neven to unfasten her dress and to loosen the drawstrings of her corset.

Turning the lock on the door, Octavia drew her hair to one side and gave an anguished smile as Neven set about his task. She then lent her hands on the washbasin as he delicately unfastened each little eyelet on the back of her elaborately constructed gown. His big hands seemed to take forever to work their way south to the very last minuscule hook, before he was able to undo the tie and to ease the strings. It wasn’t long before she felt the air inside the not so spacious restroom become tinged with pure, sexual, electricity. Octavia had even lost track of where Neven’s hands were, all she could feel was the heat of his body against hers. But thankfully, the drawstrings had loosened.

“How does that feel now?” he asked.

Octavia breathed out gratefully. “Oh, thank you, I really couldn’t have waited another moment.”

“I got that impression, I’ll just do the hooks back up and you’re good to go.”

No sooner had Neven spoken, when Octavia felt his hot breath on the back of her neck. She was slightly shocked at first, not having been fully convinced he would make a move, but his gentle kisses felt so good she let him continue.

“How does that feel, any different now?” he whispered, feeling her relax, then let his comforting embrace swathe her much smaller form.

“Oh God, just a bit,” she said tilting her neck so being her head was touching his. She could smell his cologne, she took the delectable scent into her lungs in one long breath.

“Mmm good, that’s the idea,” he said drawing his warm mouth continuously across the nape of Octavia’s neck and trailing the tips of his fingers down her bare arms.

“Ah, ah, oh God, that’s so good,” she said in a gasp.

The next thing Octavia knew, her dress was draped around her ankles and Neven’s hands were running over her weighty breasts. He would sweep over one breast then glide to the other and then traverse to her stomach. She emitted groan after groan of approval, then his touch slipped deeper, and strayed inside her silken drawers.

“Oh, oh, urgh, that’s just wonderful,” she muttered getting lost in rapture. Though, she could now see what Gwendolyn was going on about as Neven continued to probe and explore her slick pussy lips.

“Fuck, oh fuck, that’s it, keep groaning babe, you’re making me so hard, and so hot,” said Neven, though barely able to utter the words.

Octavia could feel Neven’s breathe grow heavier as he plunged a finger into her warm cunt, then drawing her juices over the soft folds of her labia. His erection was now jabbing into her lower back. In ecstasy, she felt as if her legs were about give way, but he kept on going, bringing her more pleasure than she’d ever known.

“My GOD, AH, AH, AH….”

“That’s it, now spread those legs wider, I want to see that beautiful cunt.”

Octavia swallowed, but said nothing. Neven then swung her round to face him and led her to a winged chair a few feet away in the changing area. He gestured that she sat down. Without a word, she fell back against the soft leather and complied with his instructions.

“Hmm, you are so gorgeous,” he said taking in the sight, then glancing up at her slightly amused expression.

“So, does my pussy meet with your approval?

“Why yes, most certainly, though, a lady of the day would not wax or trim.”

“Really?” Octavia said, as she noted his aroused state. His britches were constrained to the utmost.

“Now,” he said moving into her open legs. “I want an orgasm out of you.”

Octavia smiled and lent her hands on his shoulder. Then, she felt the flat of his tongue run the length of her pussy and back again. She closed her eyes and gave out a groan. He continued to lap her velvety folds for a short while until the desired response was evident. He knew exactly when he’d hit gold. Octavia had started to writhe and buck against his face as he thrust his tongue in and out of her juiced up sex, he then flicked and encircled her clitoris, and sucked gently on it like it was a popsicle.

“Arrgg, Arrgg, Oh God, Oh Fuck….”

Neven didn’t seem in the least bit perturbed by Octavia’s outbursts, but just appeared to indulge her all the more, now gliding his finger in and out of her flooded pussy, and licking her clitoris furiously as her orgasm rose almost to a crescendo. Octavia’s face contorted as she focused on the pleasure that had her shrieking like a banshee.

“Just let it go,” he coaxed.

Octavia caught hold of Neven’s hair as she rode her orgasm to its peak. Bliss swept through her, engulfing every part of her body. Spasm after spasm racked her being. She had cum harder than ever before. In front of him she lay, spent and exhausted.

“Oh, god,” was all she could say.

Neven gazed at her, smiling appreciatively, his chest heaved from the exertions.

“Mmm, that was special babe,” he said watching her come down from way up there someplace.

“That was, heaven,” she said to him in astonishment.

After a couple of minutes of laying together in the wing chair, Octavia turned to look at her lover. “We had better get back, tongues will wag if we’re seen heading back together.”

Neven nodded in reply and got up, then pulled Octavia to her feet too.

“I’ll go first,” he said, gazing into the looking glass and smoothing down his hair, and then straightening his smart clothes.

“Okay, and excuse me, but haven’t you forgotten something?” asked Octavia.

Neven turned to regard her with a glint in his eye, “Oh, you’ll just need to owe me.”

With that he brushed his lips lightly against hers and unlocked the door. Octavia sorted her hair, used her compact and reapplied some gloss before making her way back to the table. But at least she could now understand what the damn fuss was all about. Octavia had never before had a lover who knew precisely what buttons to press. It was as if he’d woken her up.

Octavia flounced back to the table like she’d only been away for a few minutes, having no idea that she and Neven had been in the restroom for a good half hour. But the festivities seemed to overshadow their absence, and they appeared not to have been missed. Octavia retook her seat next to Gwendolyn, who gave her a discreet but calculating smile before continuing her conversation with the Master of Ceremonies.

In the short time they’d been away, the skies had darkened and rain clouds hung heavily above them. The estuary beneath was packed with sailing vessels that had dropped anchor for the day, afraid of incoming bad weather. And if the script went to plan, the pairing between Azarius and Gwendolyn would need to start soon, otherwise the clash between daylight and darkness would signal The Osgars retreat underground. The hours of darkness were a sacred time for them, and overexposure to light was a danger.

Octavia took a sip of wine from the pewter goblet and watched Neven, he had definitely been a foible in her path that day, a surge of happiness echoed its presence within her. She had sensed his honour almost immediately, and when showing her some love, recognized how much he had wanted her. His reciprocation had been whole-heartedly without hesitation, as was hers.

It was rare for Octavia to give herself so readily.

Soon the ceremony was underway on the precipice of the crannog. Octavia gazed onto the estuary below that somehow reminded her of the eastern pacific, as a balmy heat wave permeated the horizon beyond. This observation was extraneous perhaps, but nothing about the day had been completely valid it seemed. An air of foreboding became fairly obvious to Octavia as the Master of Ceremonies started proceedings. Gwendolyn was the darling of St. Macabre, and even though the wedding was make-believe, it was perhaps a step towards servitude, and too much for some of the guests to comprehend.

Octavia had been looking forward to watching her beautiful friend Gwendolyn tie the knot to sex God Azarius. But somehow, now that it was actually happening, her loyalties lay with the majority. The handsome couple were to be joined in matrimony whether she and the other guests approved or not.
~Look to the light and don't be afraidThe hand of fate will touch your heartWe know not where or when
Just that the pull will surely guideI take theeFor better for worse~
As the troubadour sang, the music of ceremony only seemed to add drama as far as Octavia was concerned, her heart quivered in her chest as she looked on. Gwendolyn was stood gazing lovingly at her beau, as he slipped the ring onto her left hand. Octavia felt herself fill up and it was all she could do to stand upright. Holy flying reverences, she wanted to wail tears of glee, and annoyance. It was wrong, and right on so many levels. But at least she wasn’t losing Gwendolyn to The Osgars for good.

As the Oracle goes, Gwendolyn and Azarius were joined in holy matrimony, to produce young, carrying on the bloodline within the underground city of Katongue.

Soon it was time for Azarius to kiss his bride, and he did so with fervor. Octavia couldn’t help but smile, they were hardly likely to do it for real, but at least his intentions were tangible. As the couple made their way across the walkway, Octavia and the guests sprayed confetti and hurled congratulation, though with more than a little proviso.

Octavia was still mindful of the original transcript of the re-enactment, even if everybody else appeared to have forgotten. The bride and groom would retire to the roundhouse in order to consummate the marriage, then as darkness began to fall, The Osgars would return home. Assigned to their lengthy trek back across the hillsides were a team of hard grafting dogsbodies known as the Inks.

Once the hubbub had died down Octavia sat with Neven at the table.

“So, does the sanctity of marriage hold any appeal for you?” he asked gazing adoringly at Octavia, but it was clear the service had unnerved her.

“Oh, perhaps, when the right partner comes along, and only for the right reasons,” she said meeting his soothing gaze.

The next half hour was spent talking and drinking, as everybody waited on Azarius and Gwendolyn reappearing from their foray in the roundhouse.

In the distance, the blaze of sunset lit the horizon. The thunder clouds that had threatened rain earlier were holding out, but only just. Octavia had felt a spot or two land on her as they’d sat talking. Then, all of a sudden with a great clatter of thunder and a streak of lightening, the heavens opened. Everybody made a mad rush for the roundhouse, as it was the nearest place of shelter. Once inside the doors were closed to keep out the angry gusts that had quickly stirred up.

“Oh, um, so, that’s blown it then,” said Octavia glancing around inside. Though, she doubted Gwendolyn and Azarius would be up to anything, apart from drinking and eating some of the leftover food. But on further investigation the women who’d been working there had done a pretty thorough job of clearing up.

After a while it was clear that the rough weather was there to stay, at least in the short term. The others made themselves comfortable, and Octavia breathed out in partial fury.

“What?” asked Neven, not used Octavia being anything other than sweet, forgiving and even tempered.

“This,” she said throwing her hands up. “Typical godforsaken British weather.”

Neven regarded her for a moment. “Now now, look at it this way, we get to creep back to the restroom.”

Octavia smiled, “Oh, yes, I’d nearly forgotten, I owe you.”

After helping themselves to a bottle of the wine that was stored under a counter, they slipped away. On route to their hide-away, Octavia thought it odd that Gwendolyn and Azarius weren’t anywhere to be seen. They were not really supposed to consummate anything. Then Octavia heard noises coming from one of the side rooms and stopped outside a door marked – Private. The voices could have been that of Gwendolyn and Azarius, though she wasn’t sure.

Octavia glanced at Neven, then pressed an ear to the door and listened for several moments.

“Oh, I think we better leave them to it, listening is one thing, but I don’t really want to watch.”

“They’re in the cinema room, I’d guess it’s a movie we can hear.”

The two of them were left stood there in the corridor, assessing whether they really had time to get personal. The rain would go off, and they’d be left red faced.

“So, I can’t temp you then?” asked Neven, who was still half listening to the goings on behind the door.

Octavia shrugged, she was in a quandary, of course she wanted to.

Neven then gave the door two robust knocks and waited. Moments later, footsteps echoed towards them, and the door swung open.

“Oh, there you are, I sent you a text about half an hour ago,” said Gwendolyn, looking rather unimpressed.

“What, they didn’t have phones in AD 500,” said Octavia, trying to stifle mild annoyance also.

“Look, never mind, come in, both of you,” said Gwendolyn, ushering them into the cinema room.

The huge screen was showing some sort of BDSM style movie. The actors were dressed in bondage gear with one woman being led by her female superior. Octavia blinked in slight disbelief.

“The disc was already in the drive, come and sit down and we’ll catch the rest,” said Henry, lifting his head for a second, though appearing to be glued to it already.

Octavia and Neven took a seat, and after a while got familiar with the story line. Each of them had a glass of wine in their hand, and Octavia gasped as the female superior bayed orders at her pretty scantily clad subordinate.

The storm raged outside which signified more time to indulge themselves.

Soon the mood in the movie room had changed to what Octavia had felt earlier at the banqueting table, carnal lust. The movie, and Nevan had stirred her desires. There was now a longing deep within her, and it was crying out for relief. The throbbing between her legs was reaching a totalitarian level. Neven held her within his embrace and fondled her breasts as they sat. Gwendolyn and Henry were frolicking a few feet away, and making no bones about keeping quiet.

After a while the movie screen could have been featuring a commercial for holiday insurance for all Octavia noticed, as Neven stroked up and down her leg and reached inside her drawers. His kisses became more adventurous as he delved his tongue in and out of her mouth. For sure he had etiquette, even in her rather stuparous state he hadn’t breached any lines. Octavia had only known him as a lad from the village, and their paths hadn’t really crossed til now.

“Oh, that reminds me….” she whispered temptingly.

He gazed at her as if to say, ‘So, what you waiting for.’

But at that moment Octavia glanced up to see Gwendolyn standing over them. Without a word she smiled, lent down and started unhooking Octavia’s dress at the back. Neven resumed kissing her til the elaborate dress and the corset had been removed. Octavia thought she must be dreaming, but it seemed to be real enough. She was still wearing the jewellery she’s chosen that day, and she could smell her apple blossom shampoo. The groans and cries from the subordinate on screen intensified her arousal, then Neven’s naked body and hard cock pressed against her, immediately a tremor shot through her.

Octavia wondered where Henry was in all of this. She then caught sight of him several feet away, he seemed to be watching the movie still, but also giving them the occasional lust filled glimpse. He lay naked, his body was in good shape she noted, as was his huge erection that he kept placating.

Octavia gave a groan. “Oh, dear God, is it ever my day.”

Neven’s mouth curved into a grin as he straddled Octavia. Gwendolyn was kneeling by her side, kissing up and down her arm and running a hand through her tousled locks. It all felt so amazing, to the point that Octavia wondered whether one person could take this much pleasure all at once.

When Octavia appeared to be ready, Nevan began to enter her, by slowly lowering his meaty cock, til every inch was inside her wanting pussy. He then started moving against her, whilst Gwendolyn stroked her face, and placed kisses on her neck and shoulder, and then caressing her breasts and pulling her nipples between thumb and forefinger. Octavia writhed beneath Neven, and tried to center her mind on the pleasure, so as not to cum, as she so easily could have done right there and then. After a couple of minutes of some deep thrusting, and major grunting from Neven, he pulled out with a look of tortured ecstasy. Octavia gazed up at him, at least he hadn’t exploded inside her. She wasn’t on the pill, and they hadn’t lain any ground rules.

Octavia looked to Gwendolyn, and couldn’t help but feel she was getting the short straw. Henry seemed content to drool over the movie and to stroke his member; the combined show seemed more appealing. Octavia knew that she would not allow Neven anywhere near her, in a sexual sense. This was her ceiling point. After they’d all drawn breath, and gotten over the sudden intimacy, the tensions relaxed. Octavia had been more than delighted that all three of them had gotten this close.

Then all of a sudden Gwendolyn took Octavia’s face in both hands, and started kissing her. Rather than being aghast Octavia responded instantly. Her friends kiss was so seductive and very different from any mans - softer somehow. It wasn’t long before Neven felt the urge to join in, as he squatted behind her as she lay on top of Gwendolyn. He slowly entered her, as the two women continued to French kiss. Somewhere in the expanse of the movie room Henry watched over them, Octavia could hear his voice egging them on.

“YESSS, YESSS, ARRGGG…. God damn it, show her who’s boss,” he cried.

Neven rocked mercilessly against Octavia who now had her fingers inside Gwendolyn’s delectably wet pussy, she felt her clamp against her touch, groaning and whimpering. Then after about a minute Gwendolyn cried out as her orgasm hit. Then Octavia’s screamed out, signifying her own climax. Neven again drew out, but this time spurted hot semen all over Octavia’s lower back and beautiful round ass.

Once Gwendolyn could move again, she went across to be with Henry who was on the verge of a major seismic upsurge, as his final thrusts kept up a steady pace. His face distorted in ecstasy, and his biceps threatened to burst, then he groaned like a bull. Gwendolyn lowered her mouth onto his huge veiny cock just in time to catch his seed, as spasm after spasm jettisoned his creamy man juice into her willing mouth; with some spilling onto her hands and covering the wedding ring he‘d given to her earlier.

Octavia watched them, but dared not attempt to get up, otherwise Neven’s semen would end up going everywhere. As she lay there beached on the seating area, the movie screen had gone blank, but for one line of text. 'Please leave by the nearest exit.' Hmm, easier said, Octavia thought. Though, it did occur to her that the storm had ceased. And as there was lighting and no windows - what time was it? The re-enactment would have to continue regardless.

Neven then appeared by her side holding a wad of tissue. “I think we better get dressed, I can hear movement from the others next door,” he warned.

Octavia nodded, and after he’d cleaned away his sticky semen from her, she quickly slipped back into her festival costume. After a couple of minutes Gwendolyn, Henry, Octavia and Neven were all ready to head back. But just as they were about leave the movie room, Erik the Master of Ceremonies creaked open the door. His huge frame filled the doorway, apparently it hadn’t even been locked. Anybody could have walked right in on them at any moment. They were only supposed to have been watching a movie, by all accounts.

“Okay you guys, we’re ready to see the Osgars off on their trek back to Katongue, daylight is fading fast.”

“Sure thing Erik, we’ll be right there,” said Henry, giving a convivial smile.

All they could do was follow on, and try hard to look impartial, even with everything that had just gone on.

Once everybody was back on the precipice of the crannog, Gwendolyn and Azarius were bestowed with gifts of livestock, barley, rye and artisan pieces. This was an ancient custom that would forge links between the two. The Crannaigs chanted an exuberant farewell until The Osgars disappeared into the rapidly emerging darkness.

After everybody else had gone, Octavia and Neven stayed behind.

“So, what a party then,” said Neven, as they lent on the rail overlooking the gorgeous scene of St. Macabre Bay.

“Mmm, not an every day occurrence,” said Octavia, then turning to gaze at her handsome suitor.

Neven smiled in response. “Octavia, may I ask you a question?”

“Er, yes, what would you like to ask?”

“Will you do me the honour of being my wife?” he said nervously taking her hand in his.

Octavia was surprised, but very happy. “Yes, I’d be delighted to be your wife, Neven.”

~The End~