The Healer

by Jennifer Tiernay

DRACHEN

Drachen tended to his daily meetings and the various arbitrations that arose between the people of the land. He was known to be a fair and generous Clan leader but he took the breaking of customs and laws very seriously. In private, he would mutter under his breath at the unfairness of many of the laws but it was his duty as leader to administer what the Judges Designate had ruled. Various sins were listed by the Designates as punishable by death ~ One of which he knew he, himself, had broken ~ not in the reality of daylight but in the fantasies of his nightly dreams.

As he sat in his chair in the great hall, he glanced out through one of the narrow windows that gave up the view of the farmland and village under his care. Soon Drachen’s gaze wandered into the trees. The familiar tree line drew a smile from his face as he remembered his childhood adventures in the forest – embellished by a young man’s fantasies – and a memory only slightly enriched as age set in. As a young man he hunted, but as the years passed, the desire waned. He left that necessary task to those who still desired the pursuit of wild game.

His eyes and mind turned back to the room. The fire kept the chill out of the air on this cold spring day. He stared into the flame and thought of her. This unknown woman ~ an imaginary lover. He didn’t know why he felt guilt and didn’t know why he dreamed of her. Perhaps his guilt was due to having thoughts of a woman while his own wife administered to the daily duties of his castle. The woman would appear ~ walking into his dreams to slowly arouse him ~ teasing him with her tongue and body and hands. She was a fantasy that allowed him to feel the raw passion and hunger that he buried so deeply. He never remembered these dreams clearly. They were a shifting fog that never revealed a beginning or an end.

He wished that his wife still desired and ached for him. For some reason, this season had passed in her. People change and forget to tell each other, he reflected. The thought saddened him ~ not only for the loss of the lovely woman he had married but also for himself. There is a pivotal point when the accumulated changes you both undergo in a marriage need to be discussed. Drachen and D’Ahn subconsciously chose not to discuss their desires or the changes their bodies were undergoing as they aged. They became strangers to each other in all the ways that bound them sexually. Without the intimacies between a man and woman, passion and sensuality drift away and an intangible distance grows. It’s hard to find that closeness again when one doesn’t even recognize that it’s lost ~ until it’s too late. His sadness and sexual energy became cloaked from days filled with his duties and nights participating in the competitive war games within the walls of the soldier’s quarters. The lure of winning channeled his energies. This, at least for a while, took his mind away from the ache he carried in his groin. Within the notes of the wailing bagpipes, he allowed his sadness to momentarily drift away.

JOY

Joy was from a neighboring Clan from the west facing side of the mountains. Most of the Clans were in communication and contact with each other, however this Clan’s territory was out of easy reach and seldom participated in the Gatherings. She was the daughter of their leader. Some whispered that he was a magician and sorcerer. This labeled both father and daughter with an air of mysteriousness that did not represent their true selves; however, there was not much either could do about it. Her father’s vast library of rare books embraced knowledge from the Far East to Greece and a medicinal archive of natural herbs and remedies that was especially delicious to Joy. Her quiet nature carried a passion for healing. The wounded and orphaned creatures of the forest demanded a large part of her energies. Even with her father’s disapproval, she would disappear for days in the dark depths of the trees, tending to the various needs of the animals. She spent the evenings sleeping on a bed of spruce bows, staring for hours at the stars. She felt more at home in this place. The damp, cold walls of her father’s castle held her prisoner to her highly evolved senses. The smell the forest air and the feel of the breeze tickling her skin made her feel alive and in tune with life. Some of the deer would arrive at dusk to lie in a circle around her small fire. Even though they stayed within the shadows of the night, these guardians stood watch as she slept. Their eyes and ears were always alert for a snapping twig or the rustle of leaves - in fear of the hunter’s return.

Joy was known for her contempt towards the intruders who came with bows. She exploded in fury at the sight of their weapons and their blatant disrespect for the living things. These people needed to eat ~ she understood ~ but instead of using the animals they raised, they chose to steal from the forest her father had set aside as a sanctuary and refuge for all who needed it. These men entered this forest and trampled the precious nests held within the grasses and leaves of the forest floor. They brought sadness and pain as their arrows pierced young and old alike ~ leaving many wounded and dying. They left animal traps and hung hooks on thin rope from branches coated with lard and acorns. The wild turkeys rarely resisted this appetizing lure and hopped up to gobble the hook ~ leaving them dangling in the air suffering for hours.

A rumor spread ~ and some even believed ~ that this privileged daughter had conjured up a horrible spell to plague the hunters. A rash would cover their bodies for weeks on end and the itch was torturous. The more proud the hunter, the more they scratched and spread the rash. “This was the fault of the fair-haired witch of the woods!” they complained as they huddled around fire lit circles ~ their bodies covered with mudpacks and lard to ease the itch. Back in Joy’s quarters, within her father’s castle, she grinned privately at these rumors that sifted up through stone stairwells and halls to eventually reach her ears. In quiet satisfaction, she remembered the precisely placed branches of oozing poison ivy vines she meticulously tied among the bushes along the hunter’s trails.

CROSSING OVER

As she did every day ~ Joy slipped into the trees to tend to her animals in her father’s sanctuary. Around her waist, she tied her medicine bag of herbs and salves she used to heal wounds. She would build her fires and brew her teas. She would heal with whatever she possessed, even if it was just to lie next to a dying fawn. She would use her body to protect and to warm. One day, she looked into the eyes of a doe as the doe stumbled into a clearing, struggling to stay on her feet and weak from an arrow wound. The doe’s big head and liquid brown eyes rolled painfully to a spot under the shade of the sour cherry bushes where her twin fawns lay motionless. Joy’s eyes followed and sought the camouflage of their spotted backs among the spring blossoms. As the sadness enveloped her, she knew the fawns would not flourish without the nurturing milk of their mother. Both females understood. The doe had brought her babies here, knowing that this human female would soothe them during their last days. After the doe wandered off into the darkness of the trees, Joy lay with the fawns for three moonlit nights until they faded and their eyes didn’t open one morning.

Knowing that she was alone and out of the watchful protection of her father, a group of hunters followed her deep into the forest one day. They followed her to a small clearing. She sat with her back against an old oak tree and was laughing at some young rabbits playing in front of her. When it was too late for her to sense them or run from their presence, the hunters let loose the arrow that pierced her heart. With a sickly thud, she looked down at her breast and saw the blood flow from her. Immobilized and stunned, she looked up at the bow that had released the arrow. There was a man attached ~ his face covered in mud and lard. Other arrows lay ready in their notches but the bows lowered as she looked up to gaze upon the men. The swirl of fog surrounded her. And darkness fell.

The hunters retreated back out of the forest in the most undignified mass of flailing arms and legs. They fell out of the forest in sheer panic. As the village came into view, they pulled their stomachs in and raised their bows. Many were silent for most of the evening but, after a few pints of ale around the crackling fire, their bragging started oozing out between the gulps of liquid courage. They began to celebrate. Their hunting would now be unfettered without the obstruction of the witch’s fury.

THE STORM

The storm hit suddenly. Farmers herded their cattle and mules and horses into the paddocks as the chickens ran instinctively into their coups. Laundry was yanked off the lines hurriedly and the children were gathered and rushed inside homes. Dogs scurried for cover, growling and whining at the dark line approaching in the sky. The usual signs did not signal this onslaught of wind and rain. The animals had shown no restlessness that betrayed the advance of this oncoming storm. The dark clouds approached from the north forest and spread out over the fields and glens with the ferocity of nature no one had witnessed before in this little village.

Drachen felt the change in the air and stepped out onto the stone rampart outside the great hall. His face was buffeted with the wind and debris it carried and he had to turn his back to the sheets of water that now rained down upon the castle. He stepped back inside the large stone room. A servant had begun a fire in the fireplace and the crackle and popping of the wood held some comfort. He sat down in the large chair and gazed into the fire. The Dragon shield, the symbol of his Drachen lineage, glistened on the stone wall above the fireplace. The Dragon represented the strongest symbol of the Clans and the source of the family name of Drachen. He glanced up at the fierce eyes and red fire that coiled out of the open jaws of the Dragon, intricately painted with bright red paint upon the shield. One of his Wolfhounds walked over and got comfortable at his feet. The dog’s large head rested on his boot and the coarse silver gray hair on the dog’s back reflected the flickering light of the fire. As Drachen’s gaze focused back to the fire, the storm continued howling into the evening. The mug of ale that was handed to him felt warm as it slid down his throat. He remembered that he’d turned away his dinner in lieu of entertaining a visiting diplomat. He still wasn’t hungry. He might skip the war games tonight and retreat to his bed early. He was becoming weary.

He saw her step out of the wispy fog. His imaginary lover arrived, this time, with both intensity and purpose. It was as if she knew she had reached the end of a journey. He recognized the outline of her body and the feeling that she stirred in him. Her boots were tethered high above the knee and her clothing was embellished with the gold threads of the Pen shell. Even at this distance, he recognized the fine thread that was meticulously derived and woven from this rare seashell. Very few women ~ and only those who belonged to a Clan’s royalty ~ wore their garments decorated with these threads. The woman also wore a small bag around her waist. As she stepped out of the fog, Joy walked towards him.

He felt paralyzed but instinctively knew that this was a very important moment as her presence drew out feelings he’d never known before. Deep spiritual waters, oceans of passion and seas of consciousness swirled in his mind. The woman approached him. Blarney rose to his feet and stretched the long, legendary legs out in front of him to get the blood flowing through his old body. The killer of wolves wagged his tail at the stranger who appeared in the room. The woman knelt and wrapped her arms around the large dog’s silver shoulders as he nuzzled her face. The communication was silent between the dog and woman as the Wolfhound turned and trotted out through the doors of the great hall. Her gaze followed the dog. She had chosen well to trust the silver back. He had serviced his master well.

As the woman came to her feet and turned to the man in the large chair, Drachen was still struggling to regain the use of his arms and legs. His eyes turned to the tall fair-haired woman walking towards him and he was drawn to seek her face. The visions of her floated in and out of his dream. Just as his mind was able to grasp what was happening ~ to remember ~ conscious thoughts flowed away again ~ out of reach of his reasoning mind. The purpose for her presence kept eluding him. He strained to see the intent in her eyes but the fire’s aura radiating from behind her left the details of her face in the shadows.

BETWEEN WORLDS

She knelt before him. “I’m sorry for the unconscious intrusion,” she said. Her face drew close and for the first time he saw her steel blue eyes. With her face close to his, her nostrils flared and she slowly pulled in his scent and held it deep within her. When she exhaled, she whispered, “The strength in your body will return when I take my leave. I will be unable to come to you again…I feel my body pulling me back. I am no longer free to be here.” His mind could not grasp what she meant.

She began to rise to her feet.

Drachen struggled against the invisible weight pressing down on his body. He had heard rumors of this half sleep place where you are unable to move ~ as if frozen between the dimensions of dreams and awareness. Every night, even though he couldn’t move, the veil between the physical and the non-physical seemed as if it were getting thinner. The transparency in the “other dimension” ~ where this woman came from ~ was cutting through to Drachen’s realm. As her fingers lightly touched his skin, he desired that this veil be gone and that he could finally touch her softness in return. She touched the wildness he was taught to control all his life. What stirred between his legs was very powerful, primal and real in this dream place. A deep groan came from his belly as he pushed with all his might to lift his arm. He realized she would be leaving ~ never to return.

Just as she was almost out of hand’s reach, he compelled his arm to grasp her fingers. His hand touched her fingertips and finally reached her wrist and he pulled her down in front of him.

She allowed her knees to give in to the pressure of his pull. As her knees returned to the sheepskin in front of him, his hand slowly rose and he stroked her hair. He ran his fingers down her head and into the crevice of her neck and across her shoulder. Her body quivered at this light and gentle gesture.

“I need you”, he whispered.

She felt his fingers slip down her arm and wrap around the hand she held against her thigh. The heat built between her legs and without conscious thought, her body arched slightly. The muscles deep within her began to pulse as they contracted and released. This man was starting to be reborn and her body sensed it. She knew her body would heal him. She knew he would be the source of her own healing.

He was still positioned in the large chair in front of the fire. She was kneeling in front of him. He spread his legs to bring her closer. She leaned into him as he bowed his head to bury his face in her hair. The woodsy smell of Vetiver and musk scented her neck and hair. It brought back memories of the deep earth and the forest he played within as a child. He felt the swelling begin.

She ran her hands up his thighs and felt the large rounded leg muscles under the leather. His groin tightened in anticipation of her exploring touch as her hands and fingers slid slowly from the outside of his legs and over to the inside. Her warm hands found the mound between his legs. She gasped at the discovery. The swelling tightened the leather of his pants. The moisture began to leave her. The cloth that covered the space between her legs became wetter. His eyes bore down on her with the intensity of a deep need that was yet to be fulfilled. He stood up and pulled the linen shirt up and over his head. She watched as if in slow motion. The white shirt landed on the floor next to her. She saw the shirt crumple as the soft material surrendered into folds on the stone floor. He loosened the straps that held the leather pants to his hips. The brown animal skin spread to reveal the crown of his dark pubic hair. He pulled the finely sewn leggings down across his buttocks and then slid them down across his thighs. They fell to his feet.

He knelt on the sheepskin and faced her. He put his hands on her chest and spread apart the leather straps that held her shirt against her mounds. The leather pulled against the bindings and gave way to reveal the small breasts. As she kissed the lips of the man in front of her, she could feel the tips of her breasts tighten up and harden as her nipples pulled in on themselves. He cupped his hands around them and felt the liquid motion of her skin sliding over the hardness of the glands below it. These are mine, he murmured. These belong to me. She moaned as she surrendered to this moment.

He surrounded her with his arms and rolled to the floor. She rolled on top of him and folded her body up ~ bringing her knees along the sides of his chest. She lowered her head down onto his chest and listened for his heart. As she wrapped her body around him, the warmth and wetness between her legs pressed against his belly. Joy sat up and allowed the sensation to arouse her body as she slid across him lightly. Her wetness tickled his stomach as she made wide circles with her hips. He could feel the moisture on his skin. He arched to feel it more. She lay back down and wrapped her arms around his head. They both lay trembling and holding each other. Joy and Drachen breathed in synchronicity ~ sharing this one precious, healing moment.

D’AHN

With one loud crack, he sat up. Sweat drenched his forehead and the long dark curls clung to his neck. The storm outside the stone walls had intensified and another bolt of lightening brightened the night. He thought his eyes were fooling him. With another lightening flash, the room lit up to reveal no one else in the room. He was still lying on the sheepskin ~ but alone. As his mind tried to grasp what was happening, a fist banged on the door to his chambers. “I’m sorry to disturb you at this late hour, my Lord but there is something you need to tend to!” Drachen got up and pulled on his leggings. “I’ll be right there, Henry.” “I’m just getting dressed”. He recollected the memories in the past when he wouldn’t have dared sleep without his clothing on. The war. Those were the years when everyone slept in their clothes ready to mount the ramparts with bows drawn. These last years had allowed him to sleep the way he wished. He seldom wore clothes.

He opened the door to Henry’s disheveled hair and a lantern, which was hastily lit. The flame blackened the side of the globe. The flame was too high. He reached for Henry’s lantern and rolled the wick down to tighten the flame and looked into his friend’s eyes. “What is it, Henry?” What’s going on?

“Follow me!” is all Henry could get passed his throat as he rushed down the hallway towards the stairs. As Drachen approached Henry and followed the man’s astonished look down to the main entrance, he saw a figure wrapped in blankets. The blankets were being fussed over by his wife’s medical staff and for a moment, a slipping blanket revealed a female body with a bleeding wound on her chest. A guard gently picked up the long limp body from the floor. The women urged the guard to make haste as they scurried down the corridor towards the infirmary. Henry and Lord Drachen followed the flurry of women’s skirts and chaos. Lanterns danced across the stone walls as the midnight troop traversed the hall. Drachen’s eye caught sight of the silver back hanging in the shadows. His long legs kept pace with the blanket until it was carried into the room of smells. He lay down alert and attentive ~ his eyes pinned on the archway to the brightly lit room.

The blanket was laid down on a fresh straw mattress. The sweet smell of the grasses mixed with the pungent odors of tinctures and antiseptics. Frankincense and Myrrh oils aromatically mixed with the more common Lavender and Rosemary blends. Bundles of Wormwood hung from the rafters. This infirmary was able to afford these highly potent antibacterial herbs, oils and tinctures due to Lord Drachen’s gold; however his wife’s knowledge of the ancient healing arts provided the backbone to this healing center.

Lady D’ahn shipped in the rare Middle Eastern oils from Persia. Her gardens provided the local medicinal herbs, which were distilled down into tinctures of great potency. This polished and scrubbed infirmary was highly regarded as a renowned hospital. D’Ahn’s diligence to detail and her knowledge of occult medicine provided the finest teaching clinic in the land.

Just as the nurses opened the blanket which began to reveal the body held within it, D’Ahn rushed into the room ~ still tightening the straps on her aprons and pinning her hair up out of the way. She immediately gathered the closely huddled men and swept them from the room back out into the corridor, insisting on privacy. She walked over to her husband and stood before him. Her dark eyes danced in the lamplight belaying her concern but also the amusement at seeing her husband so unkempt. Her hand came to his cheek and she promised to let him know the condition of their new patient as soon as she could. He held her hand against his cheek for a moment longer than he should have, considering the circumstance, but the soft skin brought back the memories of her body ~ his earlier passionate dream still had him engorged and aroused. She used to lay with him at night ~ her body snuggled against his. These days have passed. D’ahn now retreated to her own quarters at night. He was left with military games, his brewed ale and many lonely nights. She pulled her hand away to rush back in to the nurses but not without a pause to look back at him. A moment’s glance between them was all they had shared in months. The wooden door closed behind her.

THE HEALING

During the days that followed, reports from the nursing quarters sounded positive. A young lady had almost drowned as she was swept away in the flash flood. Normally the little stream rolled lazily down between the two rock cliffs. It powered the mills and watered the gardens and livestock of the village. The downpour from the storm turned it into a raging wall of angry water carrying away people and animals, barns and thatched roof homes, alike. The woman had clung to the drawbridge ropes as the water rushed up and over the mote. The guards were alerted by a Wolfhound’s bark. The silver back paced back and forth on the wooden slat bridge barking loudly. The sheets of rain assaulted the dog but he stood his ground. The guards unclenched her hands from the ropes and pulled her from the water. They carried her into the castle entrance where she was wrapped in blankets and taken inside. Her leather top and pants had been torn to shreds but the belt secured a small leather pouch.

With the healing salves and medicinal teas that D’ahn provided, Joy regained her strength over the months that followed. Her wound healed almost miraculously. She was still unable to remember how it happened or who had removed the arrow from her. Her memory would return, D’Ahn assured her. Joy’s sense of humor and willingness to help with other patients endeared her to the castle’s inhabitants and to D’ahn. She was tall and lean with tousled blonde hair and gray-blue eyes. She and D’ahn shared hours talking about the healing arts; of mysterious potions and occult medicine and D’ahn enjoyed having this knowledgeable woman in her company. D’ahn had learned her craft in the ancient Babylonian libraries and halls. She was sent there by her father to be taught by the best scholars of the day. Joy had learned hers from her father’s vast number of books. Many writings taught her how to make medicines from the bounty of the forest leaves, bark and flowers. With the weeks and months that followed, Joy settled into the rhythm of the castle. One of the Wolfhounds had taken to her with the full intensity of a guardian. Blarney rarely left her side except for when she was in the room of smells. He was not allowed in this place. He was just as happy to keep his nose a safe distance from the pungent odors emanating from the room. She could be found hugging the large neck of the dog on occasion and their walks in the forest were some of the most precious moments for Joy. She designed a backpack for the dog, which became integral during the rescue of injured animals. If the animal was too large for Blarney to carry in the pouches on his back, a ready made leather travois was pulled from the pack and stretched between two branches and attached to the front and side straps of the dog pack. Blarney would diligently haul a crippled deer or wounded fox across the fields back to the castle barns. His only hesitancy came on the day of the wolf. Blarney’s body quivered beneath the weight of the creature as the unconscious animal was rolled onto the travois. The wolf’s leg still held the trap that snared him. Joy had used her hatchet to chop through the leather strapping that anchored the ugly trap to the ground. Blarney was a Wolf Killer and all his instincts rebelled at the closeness of this creature behind him. The firm commands from Joy were all that stood between the jaws of the Wolfhound and the throat of the wolf. He would do as she asked.

As the D’ahn and Joy became closer, they fell into a nightly ritual of sitting on D’ahn’s large pole bed discussing the day’s events and wrapping their hands around mugs of warm Chamomile and mint tea. One night Joy asked why D’ahn did not talk about her husband nor spend time with him in the evenings. Drachen’s wife lowered her head, remaining silent to the inquiry. Joy had not met Lord Drachen. Because her life and duties kept her busy in the southeast apartments of the women’s quarters and the fact that she did not dare enter into the large hall of administration, she had not even chanced to look upon his face. Joy laid down her mug of tea and reached for D’ahn’s ~ setting the mugs down onto the table beside the bed. She then reached out to hold her, sensing the sadness emanating from her. She regretted the pain she’d just caused in her friend and wished she could take it back. D’ahn returned the embrace and reached her arms around Joy and began to silently sob. No sounds came but her body shook with every intake of breath.

When D’ahn’s sobs stopped, she looked up into the face of the healer with gratitude. Joy’s immediate response to D’ahn’s uplifted face was to kiss her. Both women reacted with a start and withdrew from each other in an embarrassing moment. Not knowing what had made her do such a thing, Joy began to unravel her long legs to leave the bed. She had made her friend cry and then, for some absurd reason, kissed her all in the same night! How could she ever show her face again? D’ahn reached out and touched Joy’s arm lightly. Joy turned to see the look of curiosity in the other woman’s eyes. A new feeling flooded her body as the scent of mint and chamomile filled her nostrils. Joy climbed back on the bed and knelt, looking in D’ahn’s dark eyes and wondering what was to come next. D’ahn reached over to Joy’s camisole and unlaced the linen ties. Joy’s camisole was loosed from her shoulders and fell down and over her small breasts, revealing her hardened nipples. D’ahn ran her hands across Joy’s breasts and lightly circled her fingers around the brown nipples, circling on the white skin just outside of the circles. Amazed and in wonder from touching another woman’s body, D’ahn could barely breathe. Joy pulled D’ahn’s shirt over her head revealing the large breasts carefully bound by a reel of cloth. She reached around and unraveled the binding until the full breasts were released from their prison. The two very different women kneeled on the bed before each other. The long woman with fair hair faced the shorter and plumper woman whose face was ringed with dark hair. The fire crackled in the hearth behind them and the flames flickered on the skin of their bare breasts. This silent exploration of each other’s bodies enraptured them as their hands slipped between the legs of the other. As one would touch ~ the other would touch in similar fashion. Soft fingers rolled between folds of warm skin and up into the opening, not going in too far but allowing the muscles to pull the fingers up inside. They giggled as each took their turns tightening around the fingers of the other. Their passion began increasing and breaths came quicker. Fingers became slippery probes timed to the rhythm of each other’s body motions. Their tongues explored around the lips of the other, darting in and out of the mouth and then lunging deep into the throat. Each lunge was accompanied with more hardened fingers pushing deep inside their beings.

THE GIFT

Drachen stood in the doorway. His eyes watched the two women who were so enthralled in the moment; they didn’t notice his presence in the shadow of the door archway. He was about to retire to his quarters when he thought he should check on his wife and the condition of the half drowned woman. It had been weeks since he’d been updated on her condition.

As his mind began wrapping around the scene before him, Drachen’s mind raced to identify the woman with his wife. The sight of two naked and writhing bodies hardened him instantly. Blonde hair fell across the stranger’s face but he recognized her body ~ the small breasts and the long thighs. The women moaned and arched in sexual wonderment. Drachen moved closer to the bed. He barely breathed. The primitive dance of these bodies glistening in the firelight re-lit a long smoldering fire between his legs. Joy saw him first as she raised her head. A moment of recognition passed between Drachen and Joy. Drachen knew who she was. Although Joy’s memory hadn’t returned, her primal instincts were kicking in and the face of this man aroused a passion in her she didn’t question nor want to.

She reached her hand out to him, beckoning him to come closer. D’ahn felt another presence and turned with a gasp. Joy would not let go of the moment and thrust her fingers deeper into D’ahn as she pulled the man closer. As D’ahn tried to resist, Drachen’s mouth came down on his wife’s and drove his tongue deep. Her moans came from deep within her throat. Drachen’s robe dropped. Joy continued plying her fingers inside D’ahn as she laid her back onto the bed. Taking hold of Drachen’s hardened manhood, she rhythmically stroked him while equally probing the other woman. As Joy saw their passions increase, she turned and knelt with her back away from him. His manhood penetrated her in long passionate thrusts. She bent over and placed her tongue inside D’ahn and with a long lick ended up on the hardened clitoris. Her tongue and lips danced and probed and licked her into a frenzy. D’ahn arched on the bed and groaned a deep guttural sound. Joy slid away from Drachen’s shaft and motioned him to lie back on the bed. D’ahn sat up and saw her husband before her. Joy motioned D’ahn to join her as her tongue ran up Drachen’s hardened cock. Two tongues slipped along each side and then danced around the head and back down. The women became one sensual force. United, their determination to fulfill themselves and the man before them was uncontrollable. D’ahn straddled him and allowed his face to cover her moistened spot and his tongue to enter her. Joy straddled his legs and came down slowly on the shaft, pushing down a little and then coming back up to allow her moisture to spread on him. Then she sank deeper as her womanhood stretched around his circumference and spread her slippery potion all over him. Sinking down to the very base of him she rolled her hips slowly in wide circles as D’ahn moved up and down on her knees - riding his tongue as it rolled around her opening and then up between her swollen lips and into her as far as it could go. D’Ahn’s pleasure was evident on her face. There was no jealousy or animosity between the two women…just the primal moment of pleasure.

Joy motioned for D’ahn to come back and straddle her husband. Joy remained behind her and ran her hand up Drachen’s cock and then pressed it between D’ahn’s legs. Spreading D’ahn’s folds, Joy guided the hard head of Drachen between them and circled round and round until her moisture coated the cap and then guided D’ahn down on him inch by inch. Joys hands tenderly massaged his balls and D’Ahn’s clitoris simultaneously. Husband and wife were entwined in a magical moment where boundaries and restrictions dissolved as the hand of Joy connected them together. The fully engorged woman leaned forward to kiss her husband’s lips. With him deep inside her now, she rocked her hips in pleasure. He filled her completely as the rhythm of their lovemaking became bliss. They became one body in ecstasy. One mind in pleasure. One united passion exploding in the night. Caught up in the moment, neither D’Ahn nor Drachen felt Joy leave the bed.

She left them in their ecstasy and slipped out through the archway. She glanced back to find the lovers embraced. Joy smiled. She whisked her loosely held clothing together and returned to her rooms. Blarney was waiting for her there. Taking only what she came with, Joy packed the travois with some clothing, food and water. Blarney patiently stood under the full moon like a stone gargoyle as she wrapped the strapping around his shoulders and checked that the weight wasn’t too much for his back. He looked up at her and she reached down and stroked the massive head. They walked the narrow paths out of the village and into the fields. She stopped and turned to look at the castle dimly outlined against the dawn of early morning. The horizon was starting to glow in the east and the stars sprinkled across the deep black sky above her. The breeze tousled her hair and the smell of the pines drew her and the dog towards them. Memories were flowing back into her mind in small fragments. She was healing. Joy and the wolfhound strode across the rolling hills and up into the forest.

There would be another healing this day, she sensed. They must pick up the pace if they were to get there before nightfall…

_______________

Jennifer Tiernay has taken her first exploration into the written word with “The Healer”. She embellished the story with her experience in medicinal herbs, her childhood years with her Irish wolfhound "Blarney" and her dedication towards animals in general. She embarrassingly admits that her interests in sensual writing evolved from her desire to learn new ways to keep her sexual life exciting after 33 years of marriage. Never having read an erotic story before she wrote her own, it allowed her to write without any pre-existing concepts or parameters. Originally born in Canada, she immigrated to the United States in 1961 to Rochester, New York. From there her adventures took her to playing in bands on the west coast of Florida, traveling in an RV in the wintry mountains of Colorado and now to Hawaii where she lives onboard a sailboat with her husband. You can find out more about her at: Jen's Place

The Healer
© 2005 by Jennifer Tiernay
All rights reserved.