Her Bible

The bedside bible was a confirmation gift from her mother, and Charlotte had read it from cover to cover many times in the eight years since her mother's funeral. More than once when she couldn't sleep she opened the volume at random and read the lines it contained. Usually the words of the disciples and prophets were comforting although not always. The Old Testament narratives of captive maidens being taken as spoils of war and given to the conquering warriors as slaves had disturbed her sleep more than once. How could a just God order his chosen people to act so unspeakably?

What Charlotte found even more disturbing than the questions of morality and justice was the excitement she felt as she read these passages. She could not understand why since she was a young teen and even now, the troubling accounts left her flushed and edgy. Black Brand was her father's enemy, and he had been as ruthless and strong as one of those ancient warriors...

Pushing aside the troubling thought, Charlotte opened the volume randomly near the middle and her eyes were drawn to the words of the poem before her. She recognized the Song of Solomon immediately as she read the passage.

"How graceful are your feet in sandals, O queenly maiden! Your rounded thighs are like jewels, the work of a master hand. Your navel is a rounded bowl that never lacks mixed wine. Your belly is a heap of wheat, encircled with lilies. Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle."

Suddenly itchy and uncomfortably hot under her long night gown - in an act that would surely shock her aunts if they knew - she slipped out of the night dress and lay nude under the bed covers. She reread the passage touching her naked thighs, belly and breasts imagining it was a lover worshiping her body.

"Your neck is like an ivory tower." Her fingers left her aching breasts and climbed to her long neck "Your eyes are pools in Heshbon, by the gate of Bath-rabbim. Your nose is like a tower of Lebanon, overlooking Damascus. Your head crowns you like Carmel, and your flowing locks are like purple veil; a king is held captive in the tresses." Her hands pulled off the hair net that held her hair and spread the long locks across her chest, the long thick hair just covered her breasts, and the soft brush of the curls on her nipples made them peak with desire. Charlotte could not imagine an outlaw like Fuller held powerless with her wavy tresses? It would take thick ropes or chains to bind a man like him.

"How fair and pleasant you are, O loved one, delectable maiden! You are stately as a palm tree..." In this passage the maiden's height seemed desirable, not something to be mocked "...and your breasts are like its clusters. I say I will climb the palm tree and lay hold of its branches. Oh, may your breasts be like clusters of the vine, and the scent of your breath like apples, and your kisses like the best wine that goes down smoothly, gliding over lips and teeth." Her lips where burning with the memory of his kiss, Charlotte bit her lips sharply to keep from crying out loud. Then in an act of brazenness she brushed her nipples with a tuft of hair, teasing them into the same throbbing she remembered from her brief encounter by the brook.

The verses continued, but Charlotte dropped the white volume in frustration, needing her other hand between her thighs. Her thoughts blended into a confused mélange of images, feelings and memories.

Fuller had seized her effortlessly, carried her easily in his strong arms, and laid her on the ground and covered her body with his - she could still remember the strength of his body pressing against hers and the warmth of his lips exploring her ear. What if he hadn't stopped, could she have kept him from claiming her? A highwayman, sworn to vengeance against her father, had captured her just like a conquered maiden of Zion.

She imagined herself kneeling before Mary's brother in submission, naked except for the inadequate curtain of hair that covered her breasts as he gazed at down at her possessively.

Her fingers pressed deeply into her womanhood, plunging rapidly as her climax approached. She had pleasured herself like this before, but always before her lover was faceless and unknown. This time the flowing blond hair and blue eyes as he stood over her were as clear as her own image in the mirror, somehow Black Brand was bare chested, a giant Philistine warrior. He gestured abruptly with his hand and she instinctively understood what he was demanding.

Charlotte pulled her hair from her chest exposing her breasts to him; she cupped one of her warm tits and lifted it up to him offering herself in surrender.

Then she came! Harder and more explosively than she could ever remember. She tried to remain silent but a small shriek escaped her lips before she rolled onto her belly and pressed her face into the pillow. Even after the initial rush, Charlotte squirmed against the bed rubbing her tits and belly wildly against the bed as her hips pumped against her fingers pressing her sex into her hand.

How loud had she been? It was possible that no one had retired to their chambers yet, but she knew that her suite was bordered on one side by her aunt and on the other side by one of her father's guest rooms. What if someone had heard her and recognized the sound of her release?