Jessamine

Jessamine

  by Barbara G. Tarn

  ***

  ***

  copyright 2010 by Barbara G.Tarn

  ***

  Jessamine

  by Barbara G.Tarn

  1. Notturno

  "You did it. How was it?"

  Jessamine turned to look at Ileana who was helping her to dress in the white tunic for the Rite. The walls of the bedroom were covered with erotic paintings that had failed so far to impress the blonde princess.

  "Great. Your brother was very sweet," her friend answered. She was a blue-eyed brunette who took on a dreamy look. "Obviously I knew who he was and all, but if you relax and let the man do everything, the Rite won't be that horrible."

  "What if I like him and want to see him again?" Jessamine pondered. "How can I recognize him?"

  "Observe his body, Jess," Ileana suggested with a smile. "Look for special signs, freckles, scars… I'm sure he comes from your mother's Apartment, you can always look him up there!"

  Jessamine pursed her lips and nodded.

  "How do I look?" she asked, worried.

  "You're gorgeous, princess, as usual," Ileana teased. "I must leave now, as soon he'll be here. I wish you a great Rite night…"

  Ileana bowed and left. Jessamine frowned at the formal behavior, but she was aware as much as her friend of the importance of that night. Somehow she wished it was over already so she could rush to Ileana's room and discuss it with her.

  Jessamine went to lie on the bed, thoughtful. Fourteen years of studies to become a good queen hadn't left her the free time necessary to discover men on her own. She would have loved to discover sex with Ileana, but as princess and heir to her mother's throne they hadn't allowed her to breathe. And now at last she'd have the Rite. Nothing to be afraid of, as it was a knowledge she had been longing for for months now, but she would have preferred to choose the partner and time, without following the rules of forceful initiation. Such a shame. She was mature enough to understand that as future queen she had more duties than rights, but sometimes a little voice inside her whined it wasn't fair: she wanted to be free to choose. Thinking about it, though, she'd have the rest of her life to do so, at least regarding men: she could have as many or as few as she chose, as long as she had daughters to continue the Goddess's line.

  For a moment she envied her childhood friend who was studying to become a healer. Ileana had more free time. Jessamine had to forget herself for her people, and sometimes it was really difficult. Sometimes it was great, though. Leading her people towards a better future was her highest aspiration at the moment.

  Her mother, Queen Tabitha, was very proud of her because she was so scrupulous. She had studied long and hard to learn reading, writing, math, geography, politics and a couple of foreign languages so she should be ready to become queen, when her time would come...

  She'd be ready even tonight, she decided, toying with a lock of blond hair. But she was also growing impatient. This wing of the palace was silent. Everybody respected her need for quiet, but it was getting on her nerves. She glanced at the erotic paintings on the wall, but again wasn't very pleased with what she saw. Could two people really do something in those awkward positions?

  A cool breeze came and went, moving the curtains of the single window and the red canopy of the bed. Jessamine started to feel the heat of the summer.

  The door opened at last, and he came in, wearing the traditional wooden mask over his face. Jessamine noticed his black eyes, then averted her eyes from the wooden face. Useless trying to identify him from there, and the mask wasn't very attractive.

  He took off his tunic with a fluid movement. She admired his hairless torso without daring to look down. She noticed some scars and tried to remember them. Her eyes fell on his manhood and quickly went back to study the scars, her heart beating faster. Now she was feeling very hot and she gulped down her feelings, trying to calm down.

  He climbed on the bed and lightly caressed her cheek. Jessamine closed her eyes, breathless. She imagined a green meadow, and that he was gorgeous, and relaxed. Her legs opened spontaneously for him, and she was excited to hear him pant behind his mask.

  They came together, and she let out a short moan of pleasure. Ileana was right, even with all the restrictions of the Rite, it was great.

  He pulled back with a final caress, leaving her dreamy.

  ***

  "How was he?" Ileana asked while they got ready for their daily weapon exercise. "Did he hurt you?"

  She was curious to hear her friend's impressions of the Rite. It had been natural for her to fall in Carino's arms, but she wondered if the Rite, being so impersonal and without much foreplay, would be as interesting. Not being able to kiss or cuddle must be awful, after all, and Ileana had heard of girls who hated the Rite, even if she hadn't mentioned it to Jessamine.

  "Not at all," Jessamine answered. "He was very good."

  Ileana beamed, but her smile vanished with the next sentence.

  "I've been thinking… maybe I should find him and ask my mother to give him to me to start my own Apartment," Jessamine said, winking at her.

  "Oh, Jess, if he's such an expert, he's probably old!" Ileana said, disappointed. "You can have all the young and good-looking men you want…" The most beautiful princess of the century, a natural blonde, a most loved, sweet girl couldn't settle with someone much older than her! She had her whole life in front of her, for Goddess's sake!

  "I know, but he makes me feel safe," Jessamine sighed, getting up from the bench, having finished putting on her sandals.

  "But you haven't seen his face, nor heard his voice!" Ileana insisted picking up her sword-belt. She knew her friend would change her mind once she'd met more men.

  "That's why I want to meet him." Jessamine winked. "His body told such an interesting story…"

  "My Goddess!" Ileana sighed as Jessamine buckled her own sword-belt. "You're the princess. But if I were you, I'd try the son of some Aristocrat…"

  "Ile, you got my brother who is the most good-looking of the court," Jessamine teased. "Where am I supposed to find someone like him?"

  Ileana blushed, helping her with the leather bracelets. Her friend was right, and she didn't have any brothers to offer. Her mother had rid herself of all her baby boys, keeping only Ileana and her younger sister Ylenia.

  "There are others. I mean, your brother isn't the only good-looking one! Why don't you come with me tomorrow? Annabelle's mother has just bought her a gorgeous slave."

  "I'll think about it," Jessamine promised. "But if I'm pregnant, I want to meet my daughter's father."

  Ileana thought that was uncommon. But then, her friend was uncommon. Some said she was the reincarnation of the first queen, Amazonia, daughter of the Goddess, who had founded the Queendom of Maadre some five centuries ago, uniting the Maadrian tribes under her scepter. Outsiders liked to say the Amazon queens were all heartless, but Ilenia knew the truth: Queen Tabitha was very compassionate, and Jessamine definitely had a heart.

  Knowing her friend, Ileana feared the princess would actually stick to her word.

  ***

  The faceless man with the scarred torso took her in his arms and held her tight. His kisses tasted strange. Jessamine woke up excited by the sensual dream that had reminded her of the Rite.

  She had met Annabelle's slave and other young men her Aristocrat friends had introduced to her, gushing about their prowess or their beauty or whatever in them had caught their fancy, but she wasn't convinced. She had smiled politely and declined all offers while she kept thinking about the man of the Rite night.

  She decided to visit her father to take a look at the other occupants of her mother's Apartment.

  Raggio was the oldest and had given the queen both Carino, now seventeen-y
ears-old, and Jessamine. He was blond and still handsome, and the princess looked very much like him. Carino was the younger version of his father - he had the same dazzling smile.

  There had been other men and children for Queen Tabitha. Jessamine greeted the ones she knew and observed with curiosity the younger ones. The last one to join the Apartment was twenty and had the looks of somebody who had seen his dream come true: being the Favorite of the queen's Apartment was an honor many dreamed of.

  But in spite of the fact he was the youngest and most handsome, Jessamine averted her eyes from him, as he was just like the others she had met at her friends' parties.

  "After the Rite I decided it was time to start my own Apartment," she told her father, still looking around the room at the men's faces. "But I hadn’t seen my mother's yet."

  "Welcome," her father looked thoughtful. "Goddess, fourteen years already? How time flies!"

  "Are you tired of living here?" she asked, curious. He looked happy to see her, but was he actually happy?

  "Goddess, no! I've been Tabitha's favorite for long enough. She even kept me here when she stopped visiting me. How lucky is that?" He smiled proudly.

  "Why should she sell you again after you gave her Carino and myself?" she replied, amused.

  "It's been done before. We don't count, but your mother is a great queen."

  Jessamine smiled fondly at him, then looked away. Her eyes met black ones in a pale face surrounded by black hair. He wasn't beautiful in the classical sense, but had something mysterious and exotic that made him attractive. He stood in a corner, on the side of the "retired" men, not where the younger ones eagerly waited for the queen to show up.

  Her eyes went down the neck to the half-hidden torso and she recognized the little scars. Her heart missed a beat.

  "What’s your name?" she asked going to him and noticing some small scars on his face as well. He must be a former Gladiator.

  "Notturno," he replied with a husky voice. How appropriate – both the name and the sound of his bedroom voice. Jessamine shivered with pleasure, but pretended not to.

  "How old are you?" she asked.

  "Twenty-five."

  "Where did you get those scars?"

  Startled, he covered the opening of his tunic with a hand.

  "In the Arena," he answered after a short hesitation.

  "Then you can fight," she said. "You know weapons."

  He nodded, unsure.

  "I want a teacher," she said, satisfied. "I'll request you from my mother."

  He bowed, still puzzled, and she left very happy with herself.

  ***

  "You found him?" Ileana couldn’t believe her ears. They were sitting on a carpet with some scrolls they were supposed to use for a history research, but this time Ileana wasn't really interested in ancient queens or even Amazonia's story: her friend's announcement was much more interesting than any old story she could learn. "Did you tell your mother?"

  "Of course not." Jessamine frowned at the document in her hands, put it down, picked up another scroll. "He’s an ex-Gladiator. I requested him as fencing master."

  "How did you convince your mother to allow a man to train you?" Ileana was puzzled. She knew Jessamine enough to know she always got what she wanted, but this was against all traditions: how could Queen Tabitha allow her daughter to be alone with a man who could fight?

  Jessamine grinned.

  "Apparently mother trusts him. She was surprised by my request, but quickly agreed." She put down the second scroll, dreamy. "Not even he knows I recognized him yet."

  "What does he look like? Isn't he old?" Ileana's curiosity was unstoppable.

  "Enough with this 'old' thing!" Jessamine snorted. "He’s dark haired and the exact opposite of Carino, so what? He'll be the father of my children!"

  "Ah, well… if you say so…" Ileana picked up a scroll, unconvinced. "When will you start the training?"

  "Tomorrow. And tomorrow night…" She smiled, looking forward to it. Ileana sighed. She had a feeling than when Jessamine would become queen, she would change a lot of rules. Not all changes would be bad, some would be for the better, but still... after the war with the Kadenites, the Amazons didn't really need another reformist queen... or did they?

  "I wish I could change your mind," she grumbled.

  "You can't," Jessamine said. "Enjoy Carino's company and leave Notturno to me."

  ***

  Jessamine and Notturno were exercising under the sun with both sword and shield. The princess had a real sword, but the slave's weapon was made of wood. Still, he was taller and stronger, and every attack on him failed.

  "You're out of breath, princess, maybe I should allow you more time to warm up," he teased as they paused to drink.

  "You mean 'tire you uselessly'?" Jessamine’s cheeks were red not only from the heat and exertion. "Don't you understand you’re the reason for my being breathless?"

  She gulped down some water under his black-eyed stare.

  "I know it was you during the Rite," she continued. "Don’t deny it. I came looking for you."

  He quickly recovered from his surprise and smiled, lowering his eyes.

  "I should have known there was something behind this," he said.

  "I want you and only you," she said.

  "Did you try other men?" he asked.

  "I have no intention whatsoever." She caressed his face, then put her arms around his neck, rising on the tip of her toes to reach his mouth.

  "Now you don’t have the mask," she whispered leaning against him. "Show me what you can do with your mouth."

  He gulped, unsure, then held her tight, kissing her deeply and passionately.

  Jessamine was startled by his tongue, but soon abandoned herself to those new, exhilarating feelings, kissing him back with all the passion she had inside her.

  ***

  "What about this one? It looks more recent..." Jessamine followed with her finger the long scar on Notturno's belly. They were both in bed, naked, and after he had made love to her, she had started to study his scars, asking him when he had received them.

  He nodded at her question, lost in thoughts.

  "It was the last day in the Arena," he explained. "I almost died. The Queen called her personal healer to take care of me. Then she took me to her Apartment."

  "Did she use you?" Jessamine frowned at the thought, but she hadn't ever seen him next to her mother.

  "No," he answered, amused. "She thought I deserved a quiet retirement after ten years, and her Apartment was the quietest place she could think of."

  "Did you miss women?" she insisted.

  "Which women? The ones who came into our cells during the days off? I'm a slave, Jessamine, I have no rights and nobody cares about what I want," he said patiently.

  "I do..." she whispered, eyes low. "Why are you a slave?" She continued her query.

  "I come from a faraway land," he answered. "I had a family, but we shipwrecked on your shores. Almost everybody died and the survivors were sold as slaves. I was well built and was sent to the Arena for training."

  "You're very good." She stared at him, awed by his strength in both body and heart. Maybe the Goddess was wrong when she said men were lesser creatures.

  "I started young," he smiled. "I had my first official fight at thirteen. I had sworn to survive, and here I am."

  "You're so cold and efficient when fighting!" she sighed, wishing she could be like him.

  "I fight with my head, not my heart," he said. "Every move, every movement is under control. I don't allow emotions to drive me."

  "I hope you'll help me to do the same."

  "I can teach you the moves and make you repeat them until they come natural to you. But nobody will ask you to fight in person."

  "If a war breaks out, I'll be on the battlefield like my great-grand-mother."

  "Why should a war break out? I believe the Kadenites learned their lesson at the time of Queen Shawanna!"

  "I don't know
." She shrugged. "Notturno, would you like to go back to your home country?"

  She looked him in the eyes, serious. She'd hate to lose him, but if he really wanted it...

  "I don't even remember its name," he chuckled. "I grew up here. And I'm done with my Gladiator career." He pulled her closer and caressed her. "As your Favorite, I reached the highest rank a man can hope for. Why should I go back to a place I don't even remember?"

  "You know you're not only my Favorite," she said, caressing his face and feeling warm inside. "I love you."

  "You will be the Amazons queen," he said tenderly. "You can have all the men you wish for."

  "But I want only you," she whispered, nestling herself against him. It felt so good, he was so sweet...

  "Thank you, my lady," he said, holding her tighter. "I knew I was doing the right thing when I volunteered for your Rite."

  She pulled back, surprised.

  "You... volunteered?" She blushed, certain she had misunderstood. But he nodded with a smile.

  "The queen called us and told us she needed someone. I immediately stepped forward," he said.

  "Why?" she wondered.

  "I thought I owed her, as she had saved me. It was something new for me as well. And you were so beautiful..."

  He pulled her close again, and kissed her passionately. Jessamine curled up against him one more time, still incredulous that she had found a man who met all her needs. The pleasure of the first time had been just a taste of more to come.

  Every time was different, new, a discovery of passion in all its forms. She had never enough of him. But she was also learning to control her feelings during training, while she learned weaponry. She had an archery teacher and a horse-riding teacher, but her favorite lessons were with Notturno, mostly because afterward they bathed together, had dinner and made love until they fell asleep in each other's arms.

  Jessamine was in love and hoped all her subjects were in her same, blissful state of mind.

  ***

  Ileana observed Jessamine's chosen with curiosity. He didn't look that old, after all. He had nice muscles, and would be an excellent bodyguard. And he looked so quiet, wise yet sweet and... yes, such an expert he made Carino and the others look like overgrown boys. And he wasn't even a Public Man. How a Gladiator could look so charming was beyond Ileana's understanding, but she attributed it to his being born in a foreign land, albeit educated in the Queendom of Maadre. He had a natural class coming from his ancestors that made him different from the men she had met so far.