MORIA PART 1
What began as a serene walk in the coming dusk turned into a
disturbing dreamscape. She was lost. But how could she be? Every
day of her 18 years, Moira traversed the very same road, the same
worn trail in the forest.
From a tiny lass, she’d giggled a royal pronouncement: “I am
Moira, Princess of the Pines!” Many an hour she spent playing
by herself, imagining all the woodsy creatures as her loyal subjects.
Princess Moira was always firm but fair in handing down punishments
from on High. But invariably, she was far more strict than her
Uncle Liam and Aunt Hetty were with her. Even when Moira needed
a good set-to for being so naughty…
“Ah, lass, we luv ya like our own, Moira-girl. Ya know your
dearly departed folk’d be so proud of your schoolin’;. And look
what a fine and sturdy colleen ya’ve turned out to be! …We haven’t
the heart to tan your pretty hide, little gal, so don’t you be
actin’ up again!” ‘Fine and sturdy’—like a prize heifer bein’
hauled off to market! Meanwhile, Moria pushed and prodded her
aunt and uncle to take notice of her, so they would punish her
soundly for all her shenanigans.
Ah, but they’d just shake their heads sadly and sigh loudly at
her behavior. Moira kicked a large rock off the trail—which wasn’t
a trail any longer. Something drew her further and further into
the unfamiliar. Dark and shimmering shadows were richly hanging
shrouds of gauzy leaves. In the breeze, they oozed a powerful
primeval scent. “Heifer, indeed!” Moira spat out loud to the trees,
trying to keep her mounting fear at bay. “Uncle Liam isn’t goin’
to be auctionin’ me off to the first young buck who wants a maid
for his house, instead of a proper wife! I willna’ be made to
go where I willna’! …There must be more to life than settlin’
for a pig in a poke…”
The subtle breeze picked up speed. Moira was engulfed by a whirlwind
of light and sound that beckoned her to forget her earthly woes.
Airy and light as a feather, Moira suddenly drifted above the
earth, twirling, her feet fluttering, as the hypnotic music grew
louder— and jarringly sensual. The incessant beat of invisible
drums quickened her response. Moira’s virgin pelvis thrust as
if a giant hand pulled her strings. She bumped and ground her
lower body deliciously to the awesome, thumping bass. The bedazzled
young woman touched earth again—reluctantly—landing lightly in
a circular clearing.
A phalanx of stately oaks ringed the perimeter. The earth’s floor
was covered with spongy, mossy green, and colored, twinkles of
light rose above the lushness revealing a theater of strange,
scintillating fog, and unearthly sinister sound. “Moira, me girl,
welcome to the dance!” A fine figure of a mature man appeared:
bearded and brawny, who swept her into his strong arms. They began
a frenzied reel around the glen, the eyes of the onlookers blinking
red and alert as feral wolves. Moira was held tight to his burly
chest, but her feet never touched the ground. He smiled and roared,
entertaining her with naughty jokes, and ribald ripostes that
had Moira laughing so hard her sides ached! The bearded man was
Lord here, she knew.
He passed Moira among his friends, smartly swatting her plump
backside as he bowed her on to her next eager partner. Each time
a song ended, the Lord of the Dance—and her current swain—both
smacked her proud bum lustfully. Moira giggled, blushed, and squirmed
in obvious sensual delight. An unquenchable fire was being stoked
inside her, carefully tended, at each sound spank of her bewitching
backside. “Ah, my good Lord, you’ve prepared her nicely, I see.”
The most beauteous lady Moira had ever seen materialized in a
wink of an eye, dressed from head to toe in a pale green gown
which clung to every voluptuous curve… She enveloped the gaping
girl in her motherly embrace. “My dear one, are you quite worn
out yet?” “Oh no, M’lady. Not at all!” Moira gushed. “I could
dance this way all night!”
The lady’s lilting laugh was like a song of doves. “And so you
shall, my treasure. You shall dance the dance of the Ages!” Madame
tenderly kissed Moira’s lips; patting the girl’s out thrust bottom
like a mother encouraging a favorite child. Moira was spun away
from the Lady Green, flitting across the glen and landing center
stage. Drums beat faster, harsher. Harps and horns wove a magical
tone that defied all earthly melody. She danced. Like fire. Like
shards of elusive moonbeams. She danced with no restraints— unlike
the stuffy parish affairs where the proprieties must be maintained.
Unlike even the wilder, drunken nights at the village pub, fighting
off the local lads while dancing a simple jig… (Which Moira wasn’t
allowed to attend, at all, at all, but had snuck out to the pub
when Uncle Liam looked the other way…) Moira’s heart beat to bursting.
Manic joy and a yearning for freedom came alive in her soul. The
overwhelming feelings jumped outside her again, firing sparks
of light whenever her small feet tramped the fragrant grass. Her
long coppery hair sailed out behind her like a bright, sinuous
cape. Eyes glinting like emerald green crystals taunted the leering
crowd; inviting willing partners—then disdaining them all to continue
to dance this dance all on her own. Till… “A Princess dances for
her Prince.”
The strapping young man with a long stride and broad shoulders
blinked like a wraith into Moira’s vision. Her tumultuous body
slowed at the sound of his voice; her movements languid now. “I
am the Prince, Moira. You are for me…”
A flash of shiny white teeth, and his golden hair flying over
his shoulders, the man extended his arms in invitation to the
staring young girl. One small step nearer him, and Moira knew
the stuff that all her dreams were made of. After all the hours
of solitary play, and praying for ‘something’ to exciting to happen,
now her miracle was at hand. Her Pot of Gold at the End of the
Rainbow! “My Prince.” He took her hand, and with lowered eyes,
she curtseyed deeply before him. When she arose, her clothing
remained behind. “Ah, a magnificent woman , ya are, Moira, me
girl. A rare beauty to be found among the humans… You are a Princess
worthy of her rank.”
He circled her naked body like a predator waiting to pounce.
Again the drums and harp strings meshed in a fantastical chorus.
The Prince and Princess joined hands, taking first steps in mutual
seduction. Moira’s coppery curls whipped over her face, and she
threw her head back in wild abandon. Now, the Prince stood before
her as truly naked as the day--as she was. His demanding fingers
gripped her waist, lifting her high in the air, spinning her like
a whiling dervish. Raucous shouts, laughter, grunts of sexual
pleasure surrounded Moira. But she had no fear. In the air she
was weightless: she flung her arms wide as the Prince controlled
her every move. The glen was suffused with the heat of melding
bodies.
Clothing disappeared in wisps of light. And the dance raged on:
as old as time itself. The Lord and his Lady Green beamed in delight
at the young Prince and his dancing Princess. Ah yes, he had chosen
well this time… The human Moira would bear their Heir strong sons—and
stronger daughters! Their own royal raiment vanished in the earth,
and the timeless pair entwined passionately on the soft moss;
dancing to an ancient rhythm of their own creation… The Prince
wanted to claim Moira as his once and future bride. “Do you comply,
little one? Will you be ruled by me?” He whispered enticingly,
nibbling her earlobes till she moaned. “Why, my Prince, how could
I know if I would be ruled by you? No man has ever mastered me.
Or even tried… How do I know if you are man enough for me?”
The spit fire Moira laughed in his face, batting her lashes like
a frolicsome imp. She danced away from the naked Adonis; carelessly
inviting other men into her arms for a quick turn. …Only to spurn
her partner when the dangerous heat rose, then pushing her naked
charms into the fulsome embrace of yet another… Moira knowingly
led her prince on a merry and lascivious chase from one naked
courtier sporting a rampant sword, to fifteen such well endowed
suitors. She played the teasing wench that her Uncle Liam always
warned her about—but would never know that she had succumbed to
such terrible, wanton behavior… He would only shake his head if
he knew. “Ah, Moira, me girl, you oughtn’t be such a naughty-girl
tease…”
At the end of one galloping romp, Moira felt her body ensnared
by an unshakable force. “The Princess needs a good fanny warming,
that she does! Little Moira’s bottom must be tamed first. Then
she’ll know who’s Master here!”
Over his knees Moira’s bare body settled. Face down. Like a
naughty child about to be firmly chastised! The very same position
she’d fantasized being put in—“for her own good, don’tcha know?”
Uncle Liam and Aunt Hetty bein’ the kindly old souls they were,
couldn’t know how to deal with such a feisty sprite as little
Moira. But here? Now? The Prince’s palm spanned her twitching,
fear-freckled fanny. She squirmed uneasily—not knowing if she
should put up a ghost of a fight. Or simply submit. His voice
was a loud rumble in her ears. “Moira, me girl, fight or not.
Submit or not. Tonight you are mine. Forever after, you’ll know
the taste of both the chase and the surrender. This dance will
never, ever end, me darlin’ girl!” SPANK! SPANK!
The totality of his touch soon knocked the breath from Moira’s
lungs —and the wind from her sails. “Oh MY! My P-Prince…! OW!
OWWW!” SPANK! SPANK! Her bared behind bounced prettily under his
power, clenching and tightening against his hard hand till a barrage
of hearty smacks landing on her dimpled thighs told her to relax
and behave! Moire’s tummy was fluttering. Her secret cave of curls
and virginal secrets felt all gushy- wet and strange.
The Prince’s searching fingers found her most private place,
and he rubbed and tickled her between her open thighs. Each time
his finger probed deeper inside, Moira’s backside bucked high
on his lap. “Oh! Sir, how…how could you?” “Moira, me girl, because
I CAN!” he tweaked her naughty knob till she was panting and begging
for release. Soon, she came in teary tremors across his knees.
The Prince squeezed her bottom cheeks, and resumed her spanking
till her surrender to him was complete… Flushed red and blushed-bare
from her face to her toes, Moira clung openly to her Prince.
He lowered his new lady-love to the spongy earth, smiling at
her shyness. He parted her wet thighs, the Prince kissing inside
of each, readying her for the rest of the performance. His hands
chock full of her hot bottom, the Prince leaned over and claimed
her lips in a bruising kiss. His tongue lapped and licked and
savored her taste; her tongue soon growing as bold as his—and
tangling with him to the death… Slowly, he entered her—after what
seemed to Moira an agony of teasing preparation. He thrust up
to the hilt; both joined fully in a new dance where she instinctively
knew the right steps…
The Prince lifted her body by her red bottom, alternately thrusting
into her—and spanking her rump to a burnished glow. Princess Moira
moaned aloud, twisting, gyrating, and thrusting her own body into
his, amidst the music of the endless night. “Dance for me, my
Princess,” came the dark command. “Dance for me forever, Moira,
me girl.
THE END |