Knight in Amour

Sappho's latest daughter

17/02/2008 05PM Mistress Morgan's rooms, Willowcombe Manor

Kirsty awakens slowly, she feels content and warm, her belly full. She recalls sucking blissfully at some ones breasts and it sends a shiver of pleasure through her. She rises slowly. The remains of the oil sticking the bed sheets to her skin. Out through the window of her room she can see the sky darken as the sun sets. She looks round, half expecting to see War there, but she recalls the exhausted man being carried back to the Slave quarters to recover from their games. She stands up moving in front of the moon mirror and runs her fingers over her body, reliving the delights of the binding ceremony in her mind again. As she stares at her body she resolves to perform the rite on James as soon as possible.

Something inside her snaps. James, the thought of her husband is like a electric shock that restarts her brain rather than her heart. She drops to her knees as she realises what she has done. The sudden sense of betrayal taking the strength from her legs. She coughs hard, her stomach contracting violently as her body tries the reject the fullness of her stomach but she only succeeds in dry retching painfully.

She crawls across the floor, reaching for her jacket and her mobile phone. She needs to call for help, warn London what is going on, but as she pulls at the fabric she knows that the pocket is empty. She fumbles through the rest of her clothes, desperately searching but all her personal possessions are missing; no sign of her phone, purse or, she realises in horror, her asylum issue ward.

She scuttles back against the bed, clutching the clothes to her chest and tries to gather herself. She can not reach London, she can not even reach War. She is fairly sure he was alive when they carried him off, but given what she allowed the women to do to him, she can not be sure he will care that much for her safety anymore. She shudders slightly. No. She has to believe he will be professional, North sent him with her to keep her safe. He has a reputation for being reliable. But she knows she can not be certain until she talks to him again.

As Kirsty calms down she evaluates the situation. They were sent to infiltrate the group and discover it it really was a cover for some Occult organisation. At least she has been successful there. Also it seems as if the women have accepted her as one of their number. So as long as she is sensible and plays it right she should be able to see this through to the end and leave the farm at the end of the week with War. She pulls herself up onto the bed and looks down at the sticky oil still covering her skin. She knows it had some magical effect the night before, and she can not be sure that it is not still having some influence. She prioritises her needs; get clean, get dressed, find her ward if she can, and then locate War and make sure he is ok, all the time looking for some way to get a message out to North to let him know his suspicions were justified. As to James, she will just have to cross that bridge when she comes to it. He knows what the Asylum is like, and he knows enough about magical influence. She is sure that as long as she broaches it with him correctly then he will understand and forgive her indiscretions. If she had not been under the influence of the spell she would never have behaved like that. But even as she fixes the thought in her mind, she is not certain she even believes it herself. Some where she can feels yearning to be back in the arms of the woman again, indulging in the delights of Sappho.

-

An hour in the shower and Kirsty is feeling a lot more positive. She watches the last of the oils swirl down the drain, a rainbow of light against the white roll top bath. She brushes through her hair and prepares to braid it again, but as she walks out into the bed room she stops in her tracks.

Some one has been in the room whilst she was bathing. Her clothes, which her hurried search had left scattered and crumpled on the floor have gone. There are fresh flower in a large vase in front of the window, and a bowl of fruit on the dressing table. She looks round half in panic, almost expecting some one to be there, but the room is empty. She moves inside and sees the bed has been made up with fresh clean sheets. Lying on it is a long white robe with a red leather braid to be used as a belt. She approaches in nervously, clutching to towel to her chest. Lying on the robe is a note in a beautifully scripted hand