Extra story: A First Time
It's been a tough day. Here's an extra story for fun- a continuation of Rithea and Bryeison.
A First Time
They placed Arhon in his stall at the castle stables and bid their friend a good evening as they planned to walk back to the guest quarter, but this time instead of Bryeison escorting Rithea by the arm, he took her hand and strode beside her. He made no effort to conceal his motions and even gave them more attention by gazing at her with expectant looks.
She blushed for what must come. Her steps began to falter, her eyes closed with self-indignation, and she began to murmur to herself of her deficiencies and privations in the area when she was suddenly at the door of her room. She was requested to enter, but could not move for the hope and fear of him following her. “I-“ she began to say, but she was being handed into the room, he was entering with her, the door was being closed, and he was standing before her with his hand grazing the side of her face.
They remained remarking one another for some time, Rithea in terrified bliss and Bryeison in calm tenderness. Once she ceased shaking, the commander was forward enough to remove the pin from her hair and uncoil her extensive auburn tresses. He was affectionate with her, giving due awareness to her long mane and glowing countenance before lifting her into his arms and conveying her to the bed. He said nothing as he began removing his gauntlets, hoping that she would follow his actions, and she did, but not without some hesitation; she began to untie the back of her robes, but once he began to remove his pauldrons and cuirass, Rithea was unable to continue.
She was struck by his enormous shoulders and immense carriage. She had been used to think that his defined cuirass had enhanced his tone, but she was mistaken now that she was given sight of the whole. His skin though nicked with various scars was striated with intense and fibrous definition. Every movement he made in removing his greaves caused his muscles to flex and churn. Every crease formed by his powerful build entranced her, and she held the front of her robes against her chest in horror to think that she was a weak specimen in comparison. He turned from her, however, when he removed his fauld to screen her eyes from what might agitate her most, but she was already fraught with anguish, and when he came to sit at her side, her eyes gravitated toward his powerful legs to keep her from looking elsewhere. She noted that he was yet wearing his loincloth, which was of some relief to her, but when her curiosity overcame her and she must judge him with a woman’s natural consideration, she turned away in disconcertion and could not look again lest fear compel her from the bed.
Bryeison simpered at her humiliation and slowly moved behind her to assist her in undoing the last few ties. “Are you nervous?” he said with an amicable smile.
Rithea made an affirmative whimper and tried not to think of the large hand rubbing the small of her back.
He undid her garments and caught a hint of her backside by looking down at the space in her robes. “And why should you be afraid?” he purred, leaning her gently against him.
“I don’t look like you do,” was Rithea’s tremulous reply. She had meant that she did not have the same in the way of tone, but here she gave Bryeison an opportunity to give her ease.
“I hope not.”
Rithea laughed, but she quieted when he began peeling her robes from her shoulders.
“I will have to inspect you to see if your claims are true,” he said in a light tone.
And before she could protest, he had turned her around and folded the front of her robes over her arms to expose her breasts. She was of perfect size, heavy enough to be ripe and not too large for her slender frame.
He inspected her with sincerity and then said, “I’m pleased to tell you that you do not look like me.”
She blushed and turned away, forcing her breasts to press momentarily together.
He hummed and his eyes narrowed and though he was eager to place his hands on any portion of her body she would allow him but restrained himself until he was certain of her ease.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, pushing her robes to her feet. “I’ve just never done this before.”
“If you mean taken off your clothes, I can believe that.”
She laughed and treated his candor with bashful smiles, secretly gratified that he was dissuading her apprehensions with his straight and wry humour.