Midnight study

At midnight, with the moon high over the battlements, Torg quietly knocked thrice on her chamber door.

Inside the dim chamber, lit only by the pale moonlight filtering through the veil, Margaret froze at the sound of the knocks. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a drumbeat of doom. With trembling fingers, she slid the bolt back and pulled the heavy door open just enough to slip inside.

She stood there in the shadows, her blonde hair loose and cascading over her shoulders. Her bodice was loosened, revealing the swell of her large breasts, and her skirt was gathered up, exposing her shapely legs and the lace of her chemise. "Thou hast come," she whispered, her blue eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears of apprehension.

*My virtue trembles on the precipice... yet I crave the fall.* She stepped back into the room, gesturing toward the grand four-poster bed. "Pray, enter quickly, lest a passing guard witness thy presence."

Torg hurriedly entered the room, which was very spacious and elegant. The bed was large and canopied. "You have the book?"

Margaret nodded fervently, scurrying to the corner where the heavy tome lay atop a wooden chair. "Aye, I have brought the sacred text," she murmured, her voice shaking as she crossed the room. She held the black book out to him like a precious relic, her fingers brushing his as she handed it over.

*This is madness, pure and simple. If the Bishop knew I harbored such filth...* Despite her internal lament, her hips swayed rhythmically as she walked, her wetness beginning to seep into the silk of her undergarments.

"Read to me, sir," she pleaded, sinking onto the edge of the plush mattress. "Tell me of the pleasures the scriptures deny us, and let us see if my body obeys the ink upon these pages."