Merrimay, the exiled lady

You watch the three women as the recruits file past, each dropping a pebble in one of the pots to add their mite to the choice of the new Phoenix Company's Mistress of Quarters. Flora stands confidently. Her ginger-gold hair and fuller curves, perhaps, draw some soldiers' eyes. Merrimay stands tall, quiet, surveying the men, the noble lines of her face marred by the pink scar above an eyebrow. Will the company choose her for their queen? Phaedra holds herself with the taut attention of the soldier she was, before she was maimed and captured. As Flora said, even lacking half an arm, Phaedra looks more than equal to most of the recruits.

A few recruits press their pebble into a fellow soldier's hand, saying "You choose." Somehow during the evening's ceremonies you've impressed a couple of the young recruits, and you hold three pebbles as you approach the time of choice.

You watch Pinch, just ahead of you, make his choice. With his smock tented out in front of his member, his cheeks pink and his eyes shining, he drops his pebble into Flora's pot. In your turn, you take another step, and rattle your pebbles into the pot in front of the gracious, lost noblewoman. Merrimay.

When the pebbles are counted, the Phoenix Company's choice is made. Merrimay is ahead by a handful of pebbles, followed by Flora, then Phaedra. The woman whom the others spoke of as wise and learned, a healer of hearts and bodies, is to the company's Mistress of Quarters.

"The lady," you hear a recruit behind you. "It's the LADY." Another says, "The PRINCESS."

"Women of Phoenix Company, three cheers for your commander!" the company sergeant calls. "Hail, Mistress Merrimay!"

The women of the company raise their voices in chorus for Merrimay. "Hail, Mistress Merrimay! Hail, Mistress Merrimay! Hail, Mistress Merrimay!"

There are tears in the corners of Merrimay's deep blue eyes.

"Men, your Mistress of Quarters! Three cheers!" the company sergeant calls.

The men cheer Merrimay warmly, but almost hesitantly.

"Men, Mistress Merrimay is your COMMANDER in Quarters!" the company sergeant calls. "Greet her with acclaim, loud and proper!"

Goaded by the company sergeant, the men belt out a lusty round of cheers for Mistress Merrimay.

With the evening growing late, the final ceremony is conducted quickly under the eyes of the regiment's officers and senior barrackswomen, including the Mistresses of Quarters for the regiment's other companies. The soldiers of Phoenix Company are married to the women of Phoenix Company, all to each, each to all, under the rule of Merrimay, Mistress of Quarters, and First Wife of the Company. Each man pledges faith and obedience to Merrimay's rule in quarters and among the women.

"And now begins the wedding night," the company sergeant announces. "I discharge you to the rule of Mistress Merrimay for the night. Honor your wives in love, as they desire, with never **** nor anger. The punishment is dire."

"We've married a PRINCESS," murmurs one recruit.

In the next room are pallets, towels, and all that is needful for the men and women of Phoenix Company to consummate their wedding together. Off come the smocks and slippers. There seem like acres of skin glowing in the lamplight, pink, pale, gold, and dusky. You've never seen anything like it. So many male members, short and long, fat and slim, at every firmness and angle from low and soft to high and hard. So many naked women, smiling boldly or shyly, searching the men's faces, standing with their stature, posture, and figure in every combination. Some are as young as the recruits. Others are old enough to be their mothers. More than one woman shows the firm, prominent round belly of pregnancy; no doubt, marrying the Phoenix Company will help secure their children's future.

You look round, missing Merrimay and her rivals for the Mistress of Quarters.

Pinch tugs at your arm. "Going to join in, Rex?" he asks. "That's a good 'un there, asking after me. She'll show you the way of things." One of the senior ladies, sure of herself, is beckoning to him.

"You go ahead," you tell Pinch.

"Don't leave all the ladies to me," Pinch says. "Not even I can stand against these odds."

You laugh. "I think you've got some help, even if the ladies are a little ahead." you say. Already several couples have claimed pallets and are loudly consummating Phoenix Company's group marriage. A couple of hapless young recruits have spunked before they could even connect with their intended partners. A motherly woman consoles one of the young men, stroking his member gently to help him recover. The other young man watches as his intended moves right along to the next fellow.

You find Merrimay in council with Phaedra and Flora in the corner of the room. Flora has disrobed, her lush pink curves and ginger-gold hair now a single picture. Merrimay and Phaedra are still in their smocks and slippers.

"You'll be happier if you join in," Flora says. "It's an easy go, and the boys will be so happy."

The dark-haired Amazon counters, "If you're not ready, then don't. You can count on me to back you up." Phaedra's taut strength and confident stance support her promise. Her missing hand somehow makes her look more formidable, not less.

Flora shrugs. "I still think you should. But you are Mistress of Quarters, no one will make you." She laughs. "I'd be happy if you sent more men my way."

"Rex," Merrimay says. Your eyes connect again as they did when you were first introduced. Beautiful, poised. The pink scar on her forehead between her brow and her intricately knotted blonde hair.

"Merrimay," you say. Her blue eyes, so deep.

"How about this one?" Flora asks Merrimay. "He seems nice enough. If you don't want him, I'll have him."

"Are you all right?" you ask.

"Are you all right, MISTRESS," Flora corrects you, protective of Merrimay's position.

Merrimay says, "It's all right. I mean..." Her soft voice with its foreign lilt trails off. She bows her head.

"What is it, Mistress Merrimay?" you ask, not wanting to cross Flora.

"I-I am still a virgin," she says. "It would be the final step."

Flora and Phaedra each shift, poised to repeat their arguments.

"You've MARRIED the company. Might as well be now," Flora says.

"Or not," Phaedra says. "No one can tell you when you're ready."

"What should I do?" Merrimay asks, looking at you.

"Why are you asking a MAN?" Flora and Phaedra both burst in.

Merrimay laughs. She takes a deep breath, looks at you and raises her eyebrows.