She seeks wisdom in her Bible

After twenty more minutes of tossing and turning, Charlotte gave up and relit her reading lamp. On her bed stand was a bible bound in white leather and embossed with gold lettering. The elegant volume 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 soothing wisdom contained in the words of the disciples and prophets. The poetic language in this translation was as calming as the spring breeze and she needed the peace and solace she could find within its pages.

As she often did, Charlotte opened the volume randomly and her eyes fell upon the words of the poem recognizing 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." When she first read this sensual poem as a teen she had been shocked by the blatant eroticism of the language, in the Holy Bible of all places, over time she became more accustomed to the imagery and it bothered her less with each reading. Tonight however, her reaction to the open eroticism was as charged as the first time she read these words; suddenly 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, this time touching her naked thighs, belly and breasts imagining it was Black Brand accessing her body like a slaver in a flesh market.

"Your neck is like an ivory tower." Charlotte's 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." She remembered her body's treacherous response to Fuller's hands running over her bare flesh, and the way his strong fingers had buried themselves in her hair. Pulling off the hair net that neatly held the her chestnut locks she spread her thick hair across her chest just covering her breasts; the soft brush of the curls on her nipples made them peak with desire.

"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." Charlotte bit her lips sharply to keep from crying out loud, her lips already swollen and burning with the memory of his kisses throbbed with aching need as her teeth pinched them painfully. It wasn't enough, she teased her nipples with a tuft of hair until they too were pulsing, and then used her fingers to pinch and twist at the swollen buds, imagining that it was Mr. Fuller calloused hands on her soft flesh.

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. What if he hadn't stopped, could she have kept him from claiming her? Her father's foe seizing her, a captive maiden of Zion. Too late she remembered her girlish reaction to some of the Old Testament narratives of captive maidens being taken as spoils of war. She remembered as a young teen wondering how God could order his chosen people to act so unspeakably. Now as she lay naked on her bed stroking and pinching her most sensitive spots, she also recalled the excitement she felt as she read these passages for the first time. The troubling accounts of young virgins just like her captured and given to the conquering warriors to use for their lustful needs had disturbed her sleep more than once.

Charlotte's fingers stroked the moist petals between her thighs as she imagined herself kneeling before Black Brand 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 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 it was Mr. Fuller, with his flowing blond hair and piercing blue eyes standing over her, although now he wore the armour of an ancient Philistine giant. He gestured abruptly with his hand and she instinctively understood what he was demanding. She cupped one of her warm tits and lifted it up to him at the same time spreading her legs wide shamelessly 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? She knew that her suite was bordered on one side by her aunt and on the other side by one of her father's guests room, and the men from the futile hunt for the highwayman were still surely awake. What if someone had heard her and recognized the sound of her release?