Narrated by anonymous
It was late forenoon.
Another favorite time of Komtesa Tatiana. The time to quietly gently caress; a time to enjoy fully all senses of body and brain (not the time to think). The time to drown into the eyes of the lord in her bed.
Prince Lupo – her Warg - was still asleep; snore He did not, but His breath was very deep and calm. The Komtesa (from now on, we may just call her Tania) smiled and decided to gently seduce Him in His sleep, so He’d awake aroused; and then…
Then – her maid Olga slammed open the door to her quarters, whipped the velvet curtains from the tall windows; and even rattled open those windows, allowing the cool breeze to draft in!
Last, but not least – she drew the gossamer curtains surrounding the bed where Tania was gradually arousing.
The maid should not permit herself – dare! - to look at Tania’s naked lover, whomsoever of the Castle Lords that might be this morning. Even if – oh well, of course maid Olga would very well know. Not Warg in His manshape (which Olga had never seen), but that this Lord would be the transformed werewolf.
The maid put the correct, symbolic kiss on the lips of Tania – the maid had good, soft, burning lips. And whispered, as she should,
‘Are You awake, Milady?’
‘No!’ Tania hissed. ‘And how dare you wake me up?’
‘You instructed me to do so, Mymiladytania…’
Well; yes. Now Tania remembered that she’d given that order, and why.
‘What happened to You, Mymiladytania?’ Olga exclaimed, terrified; at the bruises long lovemaking leave, when you first have sex with a new Man.
‘Nothing I did not want,’ Tania replied calmly.
‘Let me get You a balm, honey dissolved in best portwine, and…’
‘No!’ said Tania. ‘You go find male clothes for Warg!’
‘Großfürst Lupo von und zu Transülvania, this Lord here,’ Tania said impatiently. ‘I call Him Warg! Now, He’s as tall as Sir Durlow, as slim and lean as Guardcaptain Tarent, and his feet more or less have the size of Castle Troubadour Jaymes - go see the maids of these Lords and compile a decent combination; if the lasses complain or deny, tell them you act on my orders, and woe is who does not comply! Hurry!’
‘Olga, you well know that I hate that word!’ It almost seemed that flames flashed from Tania’s onyx eyes.
Inhale the Komtesa did; the lass must have one point or another, to dare…
‘Ano – yes!?’
‘If one of these Lords objects, Mymiladytania…?
A smile Tania flashed.
‘Right of you to ask, lass,’ she admitted. ‘If so, tell Him that He forfeits my friendship.’
‘Right, Mymiladytania,’ said Olga. ‘Still, can Your maid ask two more questions, Mymiladytania?’
‘You can always ask, Olga,’ said Tania carefully without committing, ‘but it has to be fast questions to be answered fast!’
‘Yes, Mymilady,’ Olga said softly. ‘What will You wear, and what are You going to do about Henk?’
Laugh Tania did!
‘I shall deal with both,’ she grinned. ‘Myself! Trust me.’
Then Tania noticed the sad fear in the eyes of her maid; hugged her, and repeated,
‘I’ll take care of it; have no fear. Trust me! Now – hurry!’
Olga smiled, happily; and rushed out.
Thoughtfully Tania started washing herself (a little bit unusual, usually her maid would wash her when Tania had no time for a bath); and Tania was (happily) impressed by the fact that she had to wash her most intimate parts many times before they felt cool and unswollen.
Really, it had been the best (if that’s the right word for the most long-lasting and most repeated) lovemaking – and she’d made a lot of love to numerous lovers.
While she combed her longthickdarkhair (usually one of the tasks of her maid, but she’d ordered Olga to deal with another focus) she gave a lot of thought to, how to dress.
Yesyesyes, all women do that each and every day; but today was going to be very special.
No, not because of Warg – He’d prefer her naked, anyhow.
It was Ye Castle Magistrate she thought about. The old farter would have to be controlled; but he was too old to be seduced (old enough to be uninterested), too experienced to be cheated (he didn’t really care anymore), and very intelligent (but perhaps not up to modern logic); somehow Tania felt sure that he was oldfashioned, and thus a snob.
That’s what she had to play on. All she had.
So, Tania donned her formal dress of court, as Komtesa of Spišs. A silkdress, blue as distant mountains, inlaid with silver like the eternal snow on the precipices of the Tatry (long the dress was, so she’d need no slips or trousers to torture her wellused parts). Short blue boots, silken leather – but with heels (Tania hated heels!) which were needed for the sake of the symbolic golden spurs of the Hetmanate (indeed symbolic, as Cossacks never used spurs, hrmmpff!) demanded to demonstrate her heritage and dominance beyond and east of Carpathia. Over her shoulder the ribbon of The White Twotailed Lion, at her breast The Star of Stephan, on her head The silver Diadem of the Carpathian Unicorn; at her brow the Topaz of Adriaticia.
Naturally, she’d feel happier, more comfortable, and sexier in a simple hunting costume. And she missed rapiers, swords, daggers. But weapons would not suit.
Brain and tongue would have to do.
(Well, just in case – Tania did put a tiny throwingknife into each boot – it made her feel less naked.)
‘Mymiladytania, You look gorgeous, like high nobility…’ that was maid Olga back, and she gasped in awe.
‘Lass,’ Komtesa Tatiana said, ‘it so happens that I am high nobility; me, it makes sick – and I do my best to forget it. But, if you think I look good, thanks. Now, please awake The Prince!’
‘Kiss Him awake, kid!’ said Tania; irritated.