“I wish you to make my wedding vest, tailor Virago, and vests for the men who will serve as witnesses to the vows I long to share with Tienne. Say you will do it!”
I felt dazed not only by Auberon’s request, but also by the break in tension when he moved away from me. The world, along with the secret surrounding my heart, remained intact. Unable to think, I made my way to the doors of Duir’s rooms.
“Virago!” Auberon shouted after me. “Say you will!”
I stood for a moment as the guards opened the doors, and without looking at Auberon, gathered my wits. “If His Grace wills it so, I will be happy to do it. I do not wish to disappoint My King or Lady Tienne.”
“And what of me?” he asked good-naturedly. “I ask this as your friend, not as a man soon to be kin to your king.”
I shook my head at Auberon’s boyish impetuousness. “Allow me some time to digest what is happening today and leave tomorrow for the morrow.”
* * * *
I left Duir’s presence late and horribly drunk. The coronation plans were made, and his finery discussed at length over much ale. Ale made especially for Duir’s coronation.
“This must be your most splendid work, Virago!” Duir shouted while half spilling the dark brew over a half-naked woman who lounged by the fire awaiting his late night desires. He sucked the dark fluid from her breast, and laughed at her ticklish squeals. A manservant took this opportunity to refill his master’s mug, then retreated swiftly to the darkened corners of the room.
That night, all fear and memory of Duir’s erratic and vicious behaviors were forgotten. No one mentioned Therese or her absence. Several times during the night, I found my eyes wandering the room, searching for her, but she did not appear.
“I will decree,” he shouted drunkenly, raising the newly full and frothy mug and swinging it precariously towards where I sat among his men.
“Whatever materials used in my coronation vest are sacred to king and court. Hear me tailor, Virago, friend and servant of my throne!”
I laughed at Duir’s drunken decree, but promised one such garment fit for a king and to be worn only by a king.
* * * *
“Oh, but the night!” I shouted as I stumbled to the carriage summoned to bring me home. The driver, a handsome and alluring young man rose from his seat and quickly dismounted.
“Aye, My Lord, let me help you inside.” He opened the door of the carriage and I climbed haphazardly aboard. I felt his hands on my back as he tried to steady me, and through my cape and shirt, felt desire rise up inside of me and swell my cock. Even in my drunken stupor, I held onto enough fear of consequence to avoid reaching out for him.
Once inside among the cushions of the carriage, a need so strong consumed me. I struggled to find my footing in the ale-soaked reality of the night.
“Am I to have nothing for myself?!” My voice must have reached the ears of the driver for I heard him reply.
“My Lord, are you in need?”
Instead of answering, I rapped loudly on the wall behind his seat and the carriage lurched forward, carrying me away from the castle.
Would I always hide behind cloth, skill, and scissor to avoid the truth of my need? I thankfully kept this second admission to myself. But these questions did little to assuage my body’s torment, and instead intensified my needs. I wiped sweat from my brow. It couldn’t be, I could not want another man. It meant death. It meant disgrace. I felt my cock, a hard, throbbing flesh testament of my truth. I moaned, but realizing I might be heard, grew silent.
I closed my eyes to the night passing outside the carriage windows. Could I not find some release with my own hand?
Undo what so aches to be undone, Virago, I heard a voice murmur in my ear. I could resist no longer. I unlaced my breeches, tugged my cock from its constraints, and savored its thick fullness.
My body ached for release as my fingers circled the head. Wetness slicked my thumb as it probed the slit and forced a low groan from my throat. “Only a man.” I grunted and arched up and pressed my boots to the floor of the carriage. I matched the vibrations of the wheels moving over the streets with slow, rhythmic strokes. The pound of the horses’ hooves and the voice of the carriage driver as he coaxed them along the familiar roads served only to heighten my pleasure. I thought of the way the handsome driver touched my shoulder when he helped me inside the carriage, the way his lips curved, and I imagined him naked with his horsewhip guiding Duir’s stallions along the dark streets.
These images, along with the vibrations of the carriage, sent me past the point of restraint. I tugged my balls from my breeches with one hand and stroked my manhood with the other until I felt a wave of bliss consume me. I groaned loudly before realizing the carriage slowed. I quickly released my balls and thrust my hand to my mouth. Hot, wet seed shot from my body as if held behind a crumbling wall. I could do nothing but bite my hand in a feeble attempt to stifle my moans. I was panting and fighting to regain my senses even as the carriage continued to slow. I hurriedly tucked my dribbling cock inside my breeches, yanked a patch of fabric normally used to wipe my brow from my pocket, and went about mopping anywhere I thought my semen might have fallen. Damn the moon for not being brighter, I thought as I wiped at the floor of the carriage. I could only hope I had gotten it all and the carriage driver wouldn’t clean the coach until the next day, when my sins would
