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                               Sangrelysia

                          by Vivian Darkbloom

The Maid Assists with a Long-Overdue Housecleaning

   "I've always meant to ask where you got your door-knocker from,"
   Gwendolyn (the elfin maid) inquired, looking up at me as she
   skillfully set to work.

   Knockers, I found myself repeating mentally, as my gaze lingered
   over the pale translucent softness revealed by her low-cut
   neckline as she knelt on the floor, the scrubbing motion
   generating a comfortable jiggle. Reluctantly, I tore my eyes away
   from her pleasantly curved bosom. I couldn't be certain, but it
   seemed like her smile turned up just a bit at the corners in
   response.

   "Portals with personality, A thin little volume by Montescue
   Frimpledoom, Professor Emeritus of wizardry at Cambridge," I
   replied.

   "Mail!" shouted the doorway, as the scroll came wafting in and
   landed on the table.

   The Princess sat on my lap as, breaking the seal, I unrolled it.
   "The expedition will convene at 7:30 A.M. sharp tomorrow
   morning," I read.

   Sylvia rolled her eyes, slowly and gently rotating her soft
   little buttocks on my lap. "That means noon."

   Shanon and Meredith, dark and light, the two ten-year-old
   girls-in-waiting ceased whispering in the corner, turning to
   approach solemnly where we sat. They addressed me: "We think the
   Princess needs a good wand in the rear."

   The Princess rolled her eyes. "You guys!"

   "The rear?" I asked, a bit startled. "You want me to give her a
   good paddling?"

   "Not on the rear, in the rear," said Meredith, golden blonde,
   eyes of autumn.

   "Not the very rear," emended Shanon, chocolate skinned with long
   dark curls. "It's just that, her best position for orgasm is
   face-down."

   "Hey!" protested Sylvia again.

   I stroked my beard. "Well let's see. There's the oak wand, but
   it's a bit oversized. Then there are the fir wands, but I don't
   want to get them all messy."

   Gwendolyn came up on the other side. "Wizard, you know damn well
   what they mean," she twinkled, with an elvish grin. "Only I've
   got one better." She slipped a hand behind her, and pulled a
   drawstring, allowing her bodice to release it's burden forward.
   "You could get the wand started, between these."

   Thin dark hands gently reached over to pull back the fabric, as
   Shanon stepped over to assist, with a knowing smile beneath lunar
   orbs. Dark hands stole up to release the wonders within, then to
   caress the graciously curved outline, interrupted by the growing
   dark-red nipples. My eyes were glued to the inviting crevice
   between.

   "The wand seems to be started already," commented Meredith,
   gently probing my lap beneath the Princess' soft, firm buns.

   "Hey!" again protested Sylvia, impulsively leaping up to turn and
   to face me. Her tiny, moist lips were inches from mine, dark and
   inviting, and I felt her breath brush warm against my face as she
   stood spread-legged over my seated thighs.

   I gazed into her eyes, emerald-green set in ivory. Faint wisps of
   her long dark hair fell gently, weaving apart and together as she
   turned slightly, lips barely touching, her breath increasing ever
   so subtly with a hint of passion.

   I watched as it languorously emerged into her awareness that her
   pretense of innocence had collapsed, and beheld an analogous
   descent, as she settled back to sitting on my lap. More like
   leaning perhaps, now with vertex between her legs an inverted `Y'
   pressed firmly against me, as she shifted and snuggled to
   establish our connection through layers of fabric.

   My mind I was tardily processing the remark about orgasm, as I
   wasn't even cognizant that a ten-year-old might be capable of
   one, let alone habitually, as the comment apparently indicated.
   Lost in thought, I next felt her soft, moist lips on mine, and I
   realized she was kissing me. I kissed back.

   Our tongues met and conversed with erudite eloquence. The other
   three, two girls, one of whom entwined with the breasts of the
   elf woman, watched with interest as Sylvia and I explored for the
   first time the delicious novelty of shared tactile pleasure.

   "It's about time you admitted that you love me," she said.

   "How about you?" I replied. "Were you going to keep me in the
   dark forever?"

   Again her lips found mine, and we kissed passionately.

   "It's so wonderful a gift to see such long-withheld love finally
   requited!" Gwendolyn sighed as Shannon's dark, thin hands
   continued to trace the private curves and peaks of her body. Gwen
   reached up to reciprocally caress the other's mysterious velvety
   dark forehead and entrancing curls.

   My elfin maid kneeled down, then leaned back to sitting on the
   carpet, legs apart, knees skyward. Shannon followed her descent,
   adding a long, pink tongue to the fingers that explored
   breastwise, and Gwendolyn meanwhile drew up her white apron,
   green dress, and petticoats, to reveal the dark red lips below.
   Shannon paused in her sensuous suckling, considering this latest
   disclosure with a thoughtful smile.

   This I only glimpsed, as I was busy outlining the thin torso of
   my dear sweet Royal Princess with open palms and fingers running
   up and down lovingly her pale cotton blouse, yearning to embrace
   her deep inside of me.

   Our mutual sharing, so profound, unexpected, and completely new,
   seemed commonplace. It was almost as if nothing out of the
   ordinary were happening.

   Ho hum, another day, another ray of sunlight streaming through
   the kitchen window over suds-covered half-washed dishes, another
   nudge from the tip of her tongue against mine as her pelvis fell
   into a slow, delicate rhythm pressing against me, steadying
   herself by pressing her hands on my shoulders and sides of my
   neck.

   Meredith, beside us, long brushed-back hair the earthen yellow
   color of leaves ready to fall, watched intently, kissing her
   Highness gently on the cheek as I felt her hand exploring below.

   Now glancing at the two on the floor, I saw my maid, pale
   Gwendolyn, lying full flat on her back, knees jerking and
   gutturally grunting in response to the bobbing of the dark curls
   between her legs, Shannon sprawled elegantly, her hands wrapped
   around the other's gyrating pelvis.

   Oh how I loved these girls, and trembled with anticipation and
   longing for the shared climaxes that I scarcely dreamed to be
   possible.

   "Princess," cried out Gwendolyn, "Over here!"

   Sylvia ended our latest kiss and drew back slightly, as she
   glanced over at the pair on the floor, then back at me, with
   inquiring eyes.

   I nodded. "So. You like a girl's tongue, down there?" I asked.

   Slowly, she nodded. "Once or twice I have. But. . ." she broke
   off.

   "What?" I asked.

   "I want you in there, too!"

   I laughed. "I think we can manage something along those lines.
   Now, Gwendolyn is quite good, I'm certain. Go."

   Slowly Sylvia stood above me, and Meredith, with experienced
   fingers, drew up the white dress over the Princess' head,
   carefully setting it down on the carpet beside us.

   Never before had I beheld the Sylvia's nudity, her thin frame in
   pale vulnerability, now warm and soft facing me, tiny twin
   aureolae like pennies on the backdrop of her smooth, flat chest.
   Still, Sylvia straddled my thighs, but stepped back as Meredith
   lowered her panties. The scent of her young, feminine warmth
   glowed passionately in my nostrils.

   Gently I traced almost imperceptible lines down her pale
   silkiness with my fingertips, triggering her into shivers of
   tingling delight.

   I inhaled sharply as white fabric fell away to reveal the smooth,
   hot, soft sweetness which, moments ago, and been so closely
   pressed against my urgent desire, the tiny hairless curls of
   flesh nestled in the mystery of her sex.

   I surged forth a millimetre from sheer molten magnetism. Then she
   lifted her legs over me and turned away. Pale, tight little
   receding buns faced me as the Princess went over, lowering her
   sensitive penetrability to the lips of the elfin maid.

   An agile tongue leapt up like a flame from below to meet the
   descending pearl, and the connection brought forth a cry, the
   likes of which I had never heard before.

   "Oh!" repeated Sylvia again and again in miniaturely high-pitched
   erotic abandon I barely would have imagined escaping the lips of
   a ten-year-old girl, as she threw her head back and gave in to
   the skillful probing.

   The ever attentive Meredith had located somewhere in the folds of
   her dress a vial of sweet-smelling lotion, which she smeared
   flower-scented between carelessly lolling breasts of the elfin
   handmaiden, who was now heavily occupied at both ends, the
   princess at her mouth and the dark-skinned one with beautiful
   black curls between her legs.

   I walked over to the whirring and purring organic machine, quiet
   motion punctuated with occasional sighs and moans of ecstasy.
   Meredith reached swiftly to untie the cord holding up my lower
   garments. They dropped with alarming rapidity, as she gently
   guided my wand between erect twin buttons to the now sweetly
   lubricated soft valley.

   "I've never done this before," she confided in a whisper, as she
   reached around to press the maid's breasts together beautifully
   around me. Good thing she was available, as Gwendolyn's hands
   were well immersed in the activity of the Princess.

   "It's perfect," I assured her, as I too fell into rhythm behind
   the Princess' inspiringly round buttocks, leaning forward gently
   so Sylvia could feel my cuddling and caring warmth in back of
   her.

   Sunlight crept across the wall as we enjoyed the iterations,
   repetitious but hardly monotonous, the smaller circles within the
   larger circles, epicycles within the orbits. The clock ticked in
   its own rhythm and chimed, the last grains of sand fell from the
   upper chamber of the hourglass, collapsing ever so slightly the
   tiny mountain built by their predecessors.

   Our pleasure rose and fell, surged and subsided, increasing
   gradually upward as we settled in and shifted to get comfortable.
   I was sure I felt the familiar tremble of climax several times,
   earthquakes below me from from maid and Princess alike, possibly
   both at once.

   Then came a moment when I found myself feeling chilly and
   forlorn, apart from the soft crevice that had so perfectly been
   embracing me. I opened my eyes, to meet Meredith's impartial gaze
   across from me. She reached out and kissed me on the lips,
   briefly, with just a hint of tongue. Then bent over to kiss my
   wand, just a peck.

   But down to business -- she took firm grasp of the rod, and
   guided it to the rear of the Princess. Like she promised, not the
   very rear (brushing against it), but the seed-receptacle (or
   proto-receptacle) right to the front of it. I was so stiff and
   sensitive I worried lest she might be too rough, but she was ever
   so gentle, as she placed the very point into the heart of the
   valley, the sensation-nexus of the Princess' opening.

   Gwendolyn had seen what was coming, and so withdrawn her fingers,
   but the Princess hadn't immediately grasped that it wasn't just
   the Maid's finger being reinserted. Her cries of lustful passion
   grew as the realization dawned, and her pelvic motion renewed in
   vigor with welcoming of my entry into her sacred chamber. Gwen's
   hand, not one to be idle, took its place caressing my sack
   beneath, and vicinity.

   "Mare!" cried out Sylvia. "Over here!"

   Meredith silently let go of me, having erected the machinery in
   accordance with the grand plan, and crawled over to kneel on the
   carpet in front of the Princess, lifting her skirt to reveal the
   bare smooth folds within. Sylvia greedily clutched her friend's
   thighs, and plunged her face into the awaiting opening. Now it
   was Meredith's turn to throw her head back in blissfully moaning
   abandon.

   So we served the Princess, Gwen below, from the front, I above,
   from behind, and Meredith to her face, as we worked in tight
   synchronization as a team, to tease higher and higher, draw
   tighter and tighter the tension, until the bow released, and
   Sylvia's cries lengthened as she lost complete control to and
   ecstatic trembling dance. I felt chains of pulses squeezing up
   and down me, but dutifully I held back, ever Milady's servant,
   while Eros' arrows thus released buried itself so deeply in my
   heart.

   But she was not to be fooled. Her desperate-sounding cries of
   orgasm softened into devilish giggles as she twisted and turned
   her little tush. My turn, now, to cry out, as the unexpected
   goading dangerously threatened the agonized hairline cracks in
   the dam, treading carelessly the vein of weakness, now heavily
   burdened with the swollen waters of torrential rains of built-up
   anticipation and longing, until finally Meredith's straw-colored
   locks flew up as I heard her cry out in release, and with that
   hair-trigger the brittle barrier could withstand no more, and
   overloaded with the strain, cracked and burst into a million
   drops of releasing evanescent stars of feverish fluidity raining
   fertility into the deep realms of tiny youth below me, as I
   pushed and drove my loving intensity into the shared beauty of
   our combined orgasms as -- yes, unbelievably -- Sylvia came yet
   again.

   Gradually, the machinery ground to a halt, and we collapsed in
   each other's arms, drawing up a downy quilt against the
   refreshing breeze that ventured in from the kitchen window.

                                                           Chapter 8

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