The Welsh Bard

[Redslip]

Constance


“What is your name fair lady, and how may I aid you?”

The man's deep rich voice caused Constance to catch her breath, as if her heart had been interruped in it's beating tempo. She relaxed her shoulders and leaned forward drawing down her long eyelashes only to look up at the man from under them.

"I am Constance de Bont, only niece of the Bishop here tonight." Constance purred and let out a soft moan when she brought her leg underneath the lace edged skirts of her gown.

"I am indebted to you." Constance slowly murmured, each word dripping from her soft, full lips. " What fate that the stars have brought us here together to meet in the courtyard, or was it really the Bishop intoning of heresy?" she inquired most fetchingly as she slowly slipped the veil from her headdress.

"I fear that I may have the same beliefs as my Uncle, your music is bewitching me. Are you playing a song of enchantment?" Constance questioned teasingly as she noted the gentleness in which the bard strummed the strings of the harp with deft precision evoking soft lilting notes that hung in the air like a halo in a dream.

 

[cgraven]

Constance’s words where teasing and her final statement an open invitation.

"I fear that I may have the same beliefs as my Uncle, your music is bewitching me. Are you playing a song of enchantment?"

“My lady Constance’s if it was a song of enchantment you would be upon your toes dancing in this stable and your lovely gown would be just a memory.”

“Your Dear Uncle seems to be adverse to any thing that is not holy church music. I do believe that are married clergy, and bishop’s of the Celtic rite offends his Norman sense of what is right. Yet if Rome does not have a problem?”

“Yes but be ware of me for I am a Bard of druid training. A seducer of young Norman ladies. My enchanted Harp and devil’s song driving you to mad fits of lust , dancing naked in the moonlight, to betaken in the stables like a common wench.”

There was a devil make care on my face as I teased young Constance’s.

"Ah if only I had such power."

 

[Redslip]

Constance's light laugh rose like butterflies to the eaves of the stable, startling the horses causing them to neigh and rustle the hay in their stalls.

" Dancing, that I would, if my ankle were not wrenched. " Constance waved her foot at the Bard, her skirts sliding further up her creamy white thighs.

"And you speak of the common wench, copulating like an animal in the stables but where better for animals to mate if not under the moonlight?" She asked with a tilt of her head as she sat up onto her knees like a child learning at the foot of a master. Her sweet hands stroked her exposed thighs, framed with velvet and lace that hid a most warm mossy hill of pleasure.

"Tell me bard, being a man aligned with all things of nature, have you by chance ever seen the mating of animals? In your travels in some sort have you seen a rider of horses? The gait and movement as they trot through your countryside or gallop at a fair pace through the druid woods of oak?" At those words Constance mimicked the movement of a horseless rider, steadily moving up and down on her legs as her soft brown curls swayed over and down her shoulders much like the mane of a horse.

"I myself am most pleased when riding my steed for there is no greater pleasure, save one, than to ride free on the back of a great horse, holding on for dear life for fear of falling off. Merciless winds whipping through the cloth of my clothes chilling and exciting me all the same. Exhausting, but a marvel as any God would approve it to be." Constance paused, and continued. "Tell me bard, what does your God think of young women in stables unattended?"

 

[cgraven]

Constance's light laugh and creamy thigh catch my mind and eye. Her description of her wild ride and her pantomime as she rises and falls on her knees in front of me start a stirring beneath my kilt.

"Tell me bard, being a man aligned with all things of nature, have you by chance ever seen the mating of animals? In your travels in some sort have you seen a rider of horses?

‘Ah yes Constance the great stallions of Berwyn Mts. As they steal away the mares from the farms in Liangillen valley driving them back to the high wild mountains. The verdant green pastures the Stallions as they nipping, licking and tease the young shy mares. Mounting as they stand on their hind legs, their fore legs holing her captive as he takes her in the high meadows. The way she shakes her mane and throws her head in the pure joy of the act.

“Yes I have seen nature an felt the thrill of it”

I am kneeling close to Constance my arms now around her trim waist. My lips, a breath way from hers.

"Tell me bard, what does your God think of young women in stables unattended?"


‘He Would caution her to be sure of what she wants and then bless her .”

The kiss is soft and yet demanding as our lips meet.

 

[Redslip]

The softest touch of lips on hers and she slipped closer to the bard, drawing his hands into hers and around to embrace her. He responded with a strong, deep strokes along her back and down to her slim waist that spread into girlish hips and rounded cheeks.

Constance felt a thick, unmistakable rod growing firmer with each grope and kiss through the kilts of the bard. Its presence caused her to moisten with the lubricating love oils in her sex.

"If he doesn't take me now he will find himself forced down with a wild woman ravaging his manspear!" thought Constance as she intensified her kisses with probing tongue and nibbling lips.

She loosened her arms from around the bard to reach around the back of her gown. With a light tug of her neckline and ties in the back she released her arms from her velvet sleeves and like a snake shedding its skin, dropped her gown to her waist. She sat like a statue of Diana, the huntress, but her knowledge was not of the hunt but more of the studies familiar to Aphrodite. Her breasts were well attended by her hands as she stroked and caressed their milky white firmness. Her nipples, at first as soft as the petals of blush roses, were now sprouted into erect buds as she rubbed her fingers on their tips. She offered herself now to the druid, in the ancient ritual rites of lovemaking.

 

[cgraven]

Constance was no bashful child when it came to what she wanted. She snaked out of her gown to let it pool around he waist in the hay. Her slim delicate fingers plucked and teased the soft nipples of her firm young breasts until each bud was a pearly hard nub. All the while a teasing yearning “Come heather “look in Constance’s eyes. Soft moans escaped her lips as her hands brought her pleasure and her tongue played along the surface of her lips, a most Simulating sight as my manhood responded beneath my kilt.

“Fair Constance, what must you think of my home land, when such a fair maid as you must bring pleasure to herself?”

My hand cupped her breast and I lowered my lips to kiss that bud. My tongue snaked out to gently circle that nipple, licking it and circling it again before drawing it into my mouth to suckle it and feast on it. My kisses proceed up Constance body to the hollow of her neck, then to capture and tease an era lobe.

I gazed into Constance’s eyes as my hands released her lustrous hair, to cascade down her back, and over her shoulders. My arm around her waist I easy Constance down on to the bed of fresh mowed hay. My lips crushed to hers in a passionate kiss, my hand attendant to her firm young breast, then it moves lower under the helm of Constance’s gown to stroke her creamy velvet thigh.

My voice is soft and sweet as I sing the glories of her body and how it pleases me so between deep passionate kisses.

 

[cgraven]

Bump

 

[McKenna]

.

 

[Xelebes]

Hayden - the miserable and slimy suitor of Meredythe

Meredythe!, I call out

She is startled by my loud booming voice echoing around the corner, knowing full well that my chance was being lost. I spotted her, with the relaxed bard, slightly startled glancing briefly back at me and then back to her body.

"I couldn't lose her now, with this vagabond!" I thought trying to come up with a plan to make this waif leave. I tried glancing at the fair maidens sitting quietly, only to prattle amongst themselves. "None of them, damn toads, none to distract this oaf."

I look at Meredythe, now scowling at me bitterly.

 

[cgraven]

Autumn, the changing of the seasons, the harvest in, market days, festivals , and traveling fairs. The last golden days, the sun’s heat begins to dim the chill now felt in morning and after the setting of the sun. Soon all too soon the winter cold would set in and the long winter would again come to Berwyn Mts.

And so it was that David ap Gillen came to the little hamlet. He sat and played his fingers caressing the strings of his harp and the spell of the music reached out and enthralled all with in hearing. He sang of the mountains, the golden promise of the Harvest of the days of the Yule tide to come.

Yet there was one that hung back her eyes searched out every feature of him hope sprang into her eyes and then their was a sadness a deep sadness in those clear eyes that tore at his soul.

She drifted away into the woods that closed in around the village. He let her go then when he had sung a tune or two more he drifted towards the edge of the woods where she had disappeared.

Slowly he entered the woods till he came to a glade bathed in sunlight by a mountain rill babbling passed the small clearing . Then his fingers caressed the strings of the rose wood harp and he sang of love deep pure and all consuming, of that love lost all to soon to cruel fate. With out turning, he laid his harp aside.

“What troubles you me Lady.?”

His words soft his voice gentle.

 

[McKenna]

.

 

[cgraven]

"You remind me of someone,"

The bard’s hazel eyes where open, honest and there was no guile in them just soft interest in the Lay’s tale.

"My husband, gone these many months. He died, you see, and I loved him well."

There was silence between them, only the sound of the wood land creatures as they scurried about their activities, She sat there eyes downcast the sunlight playing in her hair the color of spun gold, wheat and strawberries. The bard’s fingers just grazed the strings of his harp, softly they sang to the creatures of the green wood and to the widow as she told her tale.

"I had not thought to feel... to feel ...

A maidenly blush kissed her cheeks, she stammered over her words, and the blush deepened.

"Bowen, that was my man, he was my first,"

There now was a far away longing of remembrance as the widow spoke of her man her first love and of the joy they had shared. Again she grew still only the light barely audible notes of the harp hung upon the still air.

” "I do not expect to love another as I have loved him... but seeing you today," Her eyes met those of the Bard. "reminded me of things I felt with Bowen, physical things, and I fear my body will not be denied much longer."

The Bard fingers stilled and the last note faded in the still air of the little forest clearing.

“Why should you deny yourself lady”………..His harp laid aside, the bard gently takes the widows hand, his touch soft but firm………………… “You still have the youth and comely appearance of a maid, surely there are many that would pay you court.”

The bard’s thumb tenderly massages the back of her hand as the speak.

 

[McKenna]

.

 

[cgraven]

A kiss such a simple thing to the casual observer, and yet in reality the most sensual and intimate of all, for in that single simple act, the very breath of life is shared. She was sweet innocent and shy as she must have been when her Bowen courted her. Then searching yearning testing as when they first laid upon their bridal bower, finally passionate yearning to share the most intimate of things as when they hoped for a child. Yeas all of her past was in that single kiss.

Her eyes now searched the Bards her hand placed his hand upon her heaving breast. His eyes some how sad some how lost in his own secret memories of a time paced and a lost love. Her lips parted as to speak and the Bard laid a single finger upon her full ripe lips.

That finger now gently lifts her chin his lips brush hers in a soft kiss that tells her of lost love, wandering, loneliness, sorrow, and joy yes the simple joy of living of the adventure that life is. As the kiss deepens to passion his fingers are on the lace of her bodice and that lace gives way baring her ripe firm breasts.

Kiss hot and passionate trace the line of her jaw, pause to nibble and suckle her earlobe. Down they travel along the sinuous curve of her neck, gentle tonguing in the soft hollow where neck and shoulder meet and her life force beats close to the surface. The Bards tongue now lazily circles her areola the taunt nipples slips between his lips.

 

[McKenna]

.

 

[cgraven]

Her hand is so small soft and gentle as it move beneath the Bards Kilt yet also demanding, yearning in her need. There is a muffled little sigh, her breathing quickens, there is a passion burning in her eyes.

The palm of his hand cups her face his lips brush hers in a tender yet passion filled Kiss.

The Bards eases the young widow back to recline upon the forest clearing floor in a bed of heather and moss. As his other hand teases and pleases her taunt nipples and puffy areolas.

 

[McKenna]

.

 

[cgraven]

The youthful widow, still a maid in all reality, ungulates beneath the Bard her body more than willing, begging for that which the death of her husband was denied her.

She pulls the shirt from the Bard her hands play along the muscles of his chest, the scares from battles fought in the past. He rents open her shift baring her to the waist. His passion building to meet hers. His mouth now starts to adore her weathering body Kiss hot Passionate, tonguing sweet sensual and maddening, work from her proud young breast down across the smooth plain of her quivering belly. The Bard’s thumbs are at the helm of her skirt and he begins to ease it down over the womanly swell of her hips and those hot kisses follow the retreating material ever lower as he kisses, tongues, and licks the newly relied silken flesh.

 

[McKenna]

.

 

[cgraven]

The tender ministrations of tongue, lips and teeth brought a shuttering release t the youthful widow.

"There, oh yes.... there!"……………………….."Oh... Oh my.... merciful God, yes!"……………….. "Oh... Oh... sir!"

Need, desire, want, and fulfillment al carried in those breathless gasps, punctuated by her lithe body arched, her climax engulfing her in sheer bliss, carrying her away on a tidal wave of pleasure.

Lips purse and blow a light cool stream of air to fan her torrid, feverish, bud of love. Hot passionate kisses trail up her withering, nubile form His eyes smile in to hers, the widow’s hips arch to him. The bard lowers his lips to hers, claims them in a sensual kiss, as he thrust his hips forward impaling the beauty an his iron cored ardor for her.

And the Bard takes her with a lust desire of his own.

 

[McKenna]

.

 

[cgraven]

The tempo in creases and builds to a blinding crescendo, each stroke deeper each stroke claiming her moist silken treasure till the tip of the Bard’s lustful lance nudges to top of the young widow womb, his heavily laden sack slaps her puffy dew covered labia., his shaft grating along her clitoris.

The beauties whispered words of encouragement as her slender waist and hips arch to meet the Bards thrusts. Her nails biting into the flesh of his back as her lithe body again quivers in orgasm, he holds uses all the mystic arts of the Bard, as each of her orgasms build on the one before. Finally the grasping, sweet heaven of her sex can no longer be withstood and with one final thrust the Bard explodes his white hot seed deep with in her womb.

They lay there in the seclude forest glen his hands lightly dancing over her nude body easing her from the heights of ecstasy back to a more normal state. Kisses, loving tonguing and little nips of love. Till at last they just rest in each other’s arms feeling the physical closeness they both had yearend for.

No names had passed between them. She was of this place this village and he was of the high road a wander with no home. He brushed a stray hair from her face.

“The hour grows late and you will be missed.”

 

[McKenna]

.

 

[cgraven]

Re: Meredythe - the blacksmyth's widow

"You have brought to me much, much pleasure this day," her cheeks colored prettily, but she did not remove her hands. "I thank you for it, because in a way it healed more than the wantings of my physical body... perhaps it is time I consider another's courting." Here she stopped and glanced up into his eyes, "God be with you bard, and keep you." She pressed her lips to his in farewell, then turned and made her way back across the meadow.

And so ends the widow’s tail and the Bard once again peruses the lonely wanderings that are his life.

Perhaps there is another that wishes to tell her tail of the bard and their adventures?

 

[cgraven]

The Welsh Bard
It had been many a long year sense I had left my home Liangillen by the Berwyn Mts. to cross the Irish Sea. Yes to Ireland to learn the art of the Bard. This no pale scribbler of words as the Norman has, nor the pretty feathered birds of the French with their delicate sonnets. But a lively man of action as adept with harp and verse to entertain, or with sharp tongue and sword to chastise and humble the Manor's Lord. Ours is an ancient role to keep alive our history and our Clan chieftains humble, so they can sever their people. I am a wander a weaver of word and verse to the harps sweet voice.

I have come home my father's house a charred ruin his men dispersed. Now a cold "Norman Keep"stands, their laws they enforced, with iron hand and pitiless heart. Gone is the joy of Llangillen the clansmen driven deep into the Berwyn Mts. I am no longer young my ginger hair touched with traces of sliver, yet I am strong of body and limb, and quick of mind. Yes I have come home to fight with wit and charm, and with arm and sword if need be to, write the wrongs, and take my vengeance. To pick their "Norman Roes" and cast them aside as they did my sister. This I David ap Gillen swear.

OOC: This is a thread of encounters between the Bard David ap Gillen and the Norman ladies. Each encounter will be limited, and reveal a different side of this Character. For established writers a chance to play a medieval maid, and for new writers a chance to work in a thread. If you are interested PM me with you character and the side of the Bard you would like to explore.

C G Raven