DISCLAIMER:
The characters belong to Studios USA and Renaissance Pictures and were used without permission. No copyright infringement was intended and no money was made.

WARNING:
This story contains adult themes depicting explicit sexual relations between consenting adult women. There is also a fair bit of kink. If you are under the age of 18 or reading this material is illegal where you live, please do not read further. The author accepts no legal responsibility for non-compliance with this warning.

You can read more of Mil Toro's stories at Morgan's Adult Fiction Library

Send feedback to lucyfer@idirect.com

************

The Smell Of Her Britches
by Ms Mil Toro

Part One - Gabrielle's Fantasy

At the desk in the room above the tavern, Gabrielle furiously wrote in her scrolls. She had an afternoon to herself while Xena was out getting new shoes for Argo at the blacksmith's shop.

"Dear Diary," she wrote:

"Why does she do this to me? Her mere presence makes me want to touch her and yet when I do, she hardly seems to notice. Once when I got up the nerve to actually kiss her, she abruptly pulled away. My heart sank. I didn't want her to know how much that hurt me and so I pretended as if it never happened. But it did. When I go to sleep I comfort myself with the magic of that kiss and the softness of her cheek.

"She kissed me at my wedding but her mouth missed mine and landed on my cheek. Her eyes spoke of longing that I dared not believe. Does she want to be my lover like I desperately want to be hers? I cannot tell to this day. She kissed me full on the mouth in a man's body, but even with that kiss I could not be sure if she was merely overcome with emotion and simply let her defences down for just a moment and only that moment. When she got her body back, she let me hold on to her for the rest of the day. But as the weeks went by, we returned back to our old ways. Me, being affectionate (as much as I dared) and she, her familiar stoic self.

"Sometimes when she is bathing at a stream, I daydream of how it could be, of how it would be if I had any kind of nerve whatsoever. I breathe in her leathers and inhale her scent. Her sweat is perfume to me and one time I even dared to take a whiff of her britches. Fantasies circle overhead and descend upon me and I imagine that she catches me and asks me what I am doing."

"What are you doing?" she asks, perplexed. She strolls over to me dripping wet from the stream. She is as stark naked as she was on the day of her birth.

I cannot look at her and my hands jerk away and toss her britches to the ground. Obviously caught red-handed and embarrassed, my cheeks glow with my guilt.

"Ahhh....nnnnothing," I stammer, knowing full well she doesn't believe a word of it.

"Uh huh..... " she answers and moves closer to where I am seated on the ground. I had promised to clean her boots and still had not finished the task, my time distracted by the smell of her clothing.

"Have you finished with my boots?" she asks casually, her pubic mound tempting me at eye level. Her tiny hairs glisten with droplets of water from the stream and I dare not look up at her for fear that she will follow my straying eyes. They most certainly will betray my desire.

"I.I.I.I'm sorry, not yet," I apologise, then reach for a boot to somehow cover up my messy tracks.

"Don't bother," she answers in a commanding tone that portends of imminent disciplinary action.

I gulp loudly and hope she doesn't notice how flushed my face is, and how suddenly my hands are shaking like a leaf or how wet my cunt is. She couldn't possibly know that, I reason, but somehow I know she does know. And I get excited all over again from that knowledge.

"It's no bother. Really. I want to clean your boots," I say as I try to make amends for my small indiscretion.

"I'm sure you do," she answers and her voice has lowered into a seductive tone. "Do you know what used to happen to the soldiers in my army who didn't follow my orders?" she questions.

"No," I reply meekly and try very hard to hide my anticipation for whatever "punishment" she deems necessary.

"Twenty lashes was the standard," she replies evenly.

"Oh come on, you can't be serious....." I reply, still not wanting to look up at her. I throw meaningless words at her in hopes of deflecting my true desires. I am not even sure if she knows how much I want to brave her lashes or if I think she is only delivering a justifiable punishment befitting the crime. My breathing is shallow as I finish my weak reply. "I promise, please. I can clean your boots now. Please, I promise, I...."

A strong hand interrupts my babbling and hoists me to my feet. I am face to face with her brilliant blue eyes that flash darkly into mine. I cannot hold her intense gaze and safely look away. I hear rustling and shuffling behind me but I dare not turn to look. My hands grip the tree for dear life. There is a fire between my legs that trickles down my upper thighs and douse everything in its path. Finally, she is behind me and she presses her full body against me, crushing me into the tree. She is now fully dressed in her leathers, save her armour. I am grateful to feel the weight of her full body against mine. I cannot help but smell the comfort of her leathers smooth against my back. Her hands are like flames of fire that explore beneath my skirt.

"You won't be needing these," her voice low and certain as she yanks off my britches. Her hands search and destroy all of my defences. My hips rock against the tree of their own volition. She finds the pool of liquid that surrounds my drenched mound and her fingers play in the fire along my open slit.

"I see you're a bit anxious, little girl. Did you think you could hide this from me? Do you think I didn't notice your indiscretion? Or were you hoping that I'd catch you and have to punish you? I suspect you want to be punished. Do you?"

"I...." is all I can manage, fearful of actually getting what I have desired for so long.

"Yes, I think you do. But before we get to that, tell me, little girl, do you like how I smell?" she asks and I'm not sure if she wants me to answer. Words escape me and all I emit is a low groan.

"Answer me," she orders.

"Yes..." I breathe out, not able to give her a more descriptive answer. For a person so adept at words, all words fail me. Instead I think of what I would have said if I could. And that was her britches were like the scent of an array of multi-coloured roses. A single flower that would open up to me and envelop my senses with the taste of her. A smell of which I would never tire. A taste in which I would revel in for days on end. Nonetheless, there was one thing I would not want to tell her. And that was how hard it was for me not to lick the secretions on her britches. The only thing that stopped me were my jittery nerves and her relative proximity by the stream.

"So tell me, little girl, were you about to lick them too? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you would've if you could've." An involuntary groan escapes my lips telling all that I do not wish to tell. How did she know? I wonder. I have worked so hard to keep my darker thoughts away from her but instead I am as transparent as glass and she sees right through me.

"No...." I lie, unable to admit how much I want to taste her.

"Ah...." she chuckles. "That's an extra lash for lying to me, but don't worry, I'm sure you won't mind at all."

She roughly pulls me away from the tree and motions me to an equal distance between two trees. Deftly her fingers tie my wrists to separate branches so that my arms are spread out, making me vulnerable to her touch. She moves around in front of me and smothers my mouth with her lips. A searing kiss takes my breath away as her tongue explores the depths of my soul. She wants it and I am all too willing to give it up. Her hands grip my top and quickly unlace me, exposing my quivering breasts to the gentle breeze. Next. my skirt is removed and both garments are dropped carelessly to the ground. Much too soon, she breaks off the kiss and circles back around me.

"I want you to count for me," she breathes hotly in my ear. "If you stop, so will I," she warns as her fingers pinch my erect nipples. A shot of pain whistles through me and settles in my loins as pure exquisite pleasure. I barely acknowledge her command as I am so distracted by her dexterity.

"Yes, I will...."

"Good," she says and releases my nipples from her grip. A tiny gasp of disappointment escapes my lips but she ignores me. I hear a few practice swings in the background and my belly becomes tight with fear. I am unable to reconcile the accompanying flood of liquid that flows through my already impossibly soaked mound. Crack! She makes contact with a nearby tree and I flinch in anticipation.

"Count," she commands.

"One," I squeak out as the caress of her whip strikes my back. Crack! The sound of the whip is louder than it feels but a bolt of lightening streaks through my body as I strain against the ropes that bind me. I know now why she has tied me to the trees. If not for my binding, I would have shot up into the branches with the second lash.

"Two," I pant, knowing that the lashes are not as heavy as they could be and that she is being careful not to leave permanent damage. Nevertheless, the air is knocked out of my lungs with the third lash.

"Three!" I shout as I try very hard not to think that I will have to endure 18 more strikes of her whip. I miss count of the fourth stroke but she continues on. I manage to count the fifth stroke and wonder if I have said it out loud. I know that if I miss a count, she will stop, but she hasn't. A sixth one lands solidly on my back and I envision the pretty pattern she must be creating. I imagine she is an artist painting her masterpiece on my back. A seventh blow lands and she stops.

"Are you still with me?" she asks, concern evident in her voice. She has folded down her leather tunic and her naked breasts flatten against my marked up back. The heat of my back radiates against her and I struggle mightily to catch my breath, my sweaty hair hangs limply around my face.

"Yes, I'm here, I....." my words catch in my throat. I am still unable to express how much I want her, how much I need her to take the surrender I offer. My sopping cunt is a testament to that.

She reaches between my legs and moans in my ear.

"How nice. So I guess I can keep going," she says as her fingers slide across my entrance. Two fingers get sucked in easily and she plays with me momentarily. It is all I can to do to beg her to fuck me, but I hold my tongue despite the screaming in my head. I need her so much, but I am determined to hold out for the full 21 lashes she originally meted out.

"I'm going to say this again," she begins. "Now that you've had a taste of my pain, you know what it feels like, you know what I need. I want you to count for me and if you miss one, I'll stop. You have 14 left, do you think you can make it to the end?"

"Yes!" I blurt out, not really sure I will but I know I very much want to. I want to do it for her.

"Good girl, now start counting." She moves away from me and I hear the familiar crack.

"Eight!" I shout a little too loudly. The whip seems less painful although no less erotic. I think of her breasts against my back and that gives me the courage to continue. Lash after lash lands in a criss cross on my flaming skin. I know my surrender is nearing completion as I force myself to concentrate and keep track of the sequential numbers. My mind threatens to separate from my body as the numerals aimlessly float adrift. I hold on to their reality like a lifesaver in a turbulent sea. We reach the number twenty, she stops and once again she crushes her breasts against my enflamed back. The welts sear an intricate pattern of pain where her smooth soft skin touches mine.

"What a sweet surrender," she purrs, her voice husky with desire. "You have one more bite of my whip and then I take this," she squeezes her hand over my mound. I moan loudly at her words of promise. I know she must take me or else I will die. She must take me now.

"Please," I beg.

"Please, what?" she asks in feigned innocence.

"Fuck me," I beg shamelessly, not caring at all anymore how many of my secrets she knows. "Now," I add, not caring if I was being impudent as well.

She laughs at my feeble attempt to command her. "So the little girl wants me to be fucked, does she?" she taunts. "And I see she can't wait for the last stroke. Well, you'll have to, won't you, little girl?"

She pulls away from my back. The open air caresses my welts and makes me wince momentarily. Crack! The final stroke is upon me before I have time to breathe. It is the seal of my surrender. I am totally hers and always will be. I know it. And she knows it too.

Xena fumbled through Gabrielle's saddlebag in search of a blank scroll. She would be back shortly but she needed to leave a message to reassure the bard that she would be back by nightfall and not to worry. She found no blank scrolls and quickly scanned a short one that needn't be saved for posterity. She perused the familiar handwriting and her eye caught part of what was clearly an erotic story written by Gabrielle.

"I face the tree and await her command. I hear rustling and shuffling behind me but I dare not turn to look. My hands grip the tree for dear life. There is a fire between my legs that trickles down my upper thighs and soak everything in its path. Finally, she is behind me and she presses her full body against me, crushing me into the tree. She is....."

Xena was drawn to the story immediately and felt a twinge of guilt as she peered into a part of the bard she had never considered. She finished reading the story as quickly as she could and carefully returned the scroll to Gabrielle's saddlebag. Clearly, the participants in the story were easily identifiable although the bard chose not to use a name anywhere in the text. Her insides tingled at the thought of what Gabrielle's vivid imagination had created. She left the room and decided she would have a talk with her friend later. But first things first. She had some errands to run.

Part Two - Xena Fulfills

I wandered back to the tavern after making a discreet stop at the tannery. She was sitting at a table and patiently waited for me to join her.

As I approached, her face lit up in a brilliant smile and for the first time I realised that her longing matched my own. Just like a wild flower, she had blossomed right before my eyes and I had not noticed until I read her private scroll. I felt a twinge of guilt at reading the thoughts she'd chosen not to share. But I also felt a sense of sadness that she thought I was so unapproachable that she could only share herself with a piece of parchment. Unbeknownst to her, I decided this night would be when her unrevealed secrets became my own. My seduction began.

"Xena!" she cried, ecstatic, as always, to see me. Why had I invariably misread her exuberance before? I wondered. I had consistently attributed it to the enthusiasm of her youth. But now... I felt like a spy with inside information.

The serving girl placed a plate of food before me and I ostensibly put the fork to my mouth. Gabrielle had already dug in but I kept my eyes upon her, amazed that I was seeing her in a uniquely brilliant light. A light that had transformed her from an innocent and naive farm girl into the beautiful and delectable beauty she had become. I began eating my food in deliberate fashion.

"What?" she asked me between mouthfuls of the scrumptious meal.

"What do you mean, what?" I asked, not ready to give away my plans but yet wanting to keep her mind churning with possibilities.

"Why are you staring at me?" she asked as she self-consciously wiped her cheeks and mouth with the back of her hand. It was a perfectly reasonable question. Never before had I openly stared at her, but I was leading her down the alluring path of the dark beyond.

"No, sorry, I don't mean to stare. It's just that....." my voice trailed off wanting her to fill in the blank. "Did you finish the story you were working on?" I asked, fishing for a reaction I knew would make her blush. And she did. A lovely shade of rosy pink.

"Well, I...., yyyes, I did and.... well, I'm not exactly finished, I'm going to need more scrolls and---"

Suddenly the serving girl appeared at our table saving Gabrielle from further embarrassment. She grinned at me sheepishly and then quickly averted her eyes, grateful for the momentary distraction.

"Would you two like another ale?" the serving girl asked, oblivious to the lifesaving excuse she became for the bard. I ignored the serving girl and kept my eyes firmly locked on Gabrielle's blushing cheeks.

"Xena, do you want some more?" Gabrielle asked me giddily.

"Yes, I want... more," I answered, my voice low and calm, almost seductive as the squirming bard looked everywhere except in my direction. Her eyes finally settled on her plate that was now nearly empty. "Do you, Gabrielle?" I asked almost innocently, speaking her name as a lover would and hoped that she would catch my double meaning.

"Sure, Xena," she looked up at me momentarily and nodded with more vigour than she probably intended. Her ears burned a bright red as she blushed again most sweetly but was unable to return my piercing gaze. Mysteriously, the bottom of her mug captured her unwavering attention.

The serving girl left to retrieve our second round of ale.

"So, are you going to share this story of yours when you're finished?" I asked, determined to continue my adventurous line of questioning. She abruptly looked up from her mug and her face turned fearful for a moment.

"Sure, if you want me to," she answered seriously, her eyes questioning me silently and I'm sure in that moment she wondered if I had already read her precious scroll. Our eyes locked for what seemed an eternity and I knew then that I wanted to take her and if I had a mind to it, the space on the round table would have been more than sufficient. It wouldn't have been the first time I'd had a woman splayed across a tavern's table, but I didn't want to take my Gabrielle that way, not our first time, anyway. Words from the story in her scroll cascaded around me and I wondered if those same thoughts descended on her as well.

My britches absorbed the moisture that gathered between my legs as I remembered the willing "prisoners" who followed my army. Women and men who would do anything to be close to the Warrior Princess and I would stop at nothing to satisfy the battle lust that frequently swept through me. Until reading Gabrielle's scroll, I had never imagined that the bard would ever be willing to succumb to my darkest desires. I thought I had left that all behind when I gave up being a warlord but now I wasn't so sure. Gabrielle's scroll unleashed my carnal mysteries in a torrential flood released by the dam from my past. Up until now, I had dared not hope that she could want me so passionately. And the temptation to corrupt her gentle soul nearly overwhelmed me with fright. So I waited for her and my extreme patience paid off. Time stopped as we sat gazing into each other's eyes, although neither of us really knew what the other was thinking.

Abruptly, the spell was broken when the serving girl appeared with our mugs.

"Xena, what direction do you want to head in tomorrow?" Gabrielle asked, conveniently changing the topic. She had no idea what kind of elaborate plans I had in store for her.

"I don't think you'll want to be going anywhere," I replied enigmatically, letting her wonder at the implication of my words.

"Why not, Xena?" she giggled.

"It's a surprise," I answered vaguely.

The uninhibited desire in my eyes froze the girlish grin on her lips. I had many years of practice at conveying my single-minded intentions. She swallowed hard and her face again flushed a deep red. After holding my gaze on her for several seconds, I deliberately turned away and scanned the sparse crowd. I wanted her to be ready for me. I wanted her to wait until I was ready to take her. I leaned back and propped my leg above the table, giving her an ample view of my exposed thigh. I heard her cough suddenly and then she quickly washed down a gulp of ale. I nonchalantly glanced in her direction and a slight smile curled my lip as I watched her struggle mightily not to leap across the table and attack my muscled leg.

"Are you all right?" I asked, sure that she hoped I hadn't said anything at all.

"Yeah, fine.....sssssomething.....ccccaught in my throat, that's all," she choked out.

"Have another sip of ale," I offered. She gulped down the remaining contents of her second mug and I observed that she drank it faster than she usually does. I took another sip of my own relishing the effect I was having on her. We sat like that for another half candlemark and I'm sure it was sheer torture for her as we both knew she was waiting just for me. And I? I was having the time of my life. The night was young and I never wanted this night to end.

"Let's go," I said as I swallowed the final contents in my mug and led her deep into the night of her lost innocence.

We entered the room, both nervous with anticipation. She chose to cover it up with chattering blather and I, with stoic silence. I sat on the bed and removed my knee-high boots, eyeing her surreptitiously while she changed into her sleeping tunic. Her trembling hands betrayed her garrulous bravado. I smirked a bit to myself, anxious to take her but not wanting to rush. She picked up a brush and began her nightly ritual of disentangling her reddish blonde hair.

"Here, let me do that," I offered in a sultry voice that hinted at further intentions. She ceased all movement and stopped her rambling in mid-sentence. She hesitated for a moment but then turned to me, her eyes uncertain and questioning. In the past, we had brushed each other's hair numerous times, but on this night, she knew I was offering her so much more and she graciously accepted my invitation. She gave me a strained smile and sat in front of me on the bed. She sat upright, her back stiff and erect as I brushed out the tangles of her luxuriant hair.

"Your hair is getting pretty long," I murmured, trying to get her to relax and enjoy my attentions.

"Uh huh," she answered succinctly, her bubbly words vanquished by my bold enticement.

"And it's so soft," I added, dropping my voice to an impossibly low level. I noticed her shiver almost imperceptibly.

"Xena," she finally said after a long pause. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you....." she stopped in mid-sentence, although I knew exactly what she was about to say.

"And what if I was flirting with you?" I asked.

"Yeah, right," she giggled girlishly. Her shoulders stiffened beneath me and I restrained myself from taking her right then. I knew she was like artisan's clay in my hands waiting to be moulded into the picturesque goddess I wanted her to be. My breath quickened slightly as I made a brave confession.

"I read your scroll ," I admitted, my breath exhaled hotly into her ear. She started to turn around but my hands moved faster than our eyes could see and I had her wrists clasped together behind her in a vice. Her breasts jutted out invitingly as I continued, "I know what you want and you can have it. Everything." She whimpered at my words, knowing that I spoke the truth but her lips uttered forth a lie.

"Don't, Xena," she panted, but made very little attempt to break free. I was slightly disappointed. My blood surged like hot lava through my veins and I wanted her to struggle against me, I wanted to feel the power she so lovingly surrendered.

"Don't what?" I asked, wanting to hear her say the words that I knew she couldn't say. I transferred both her small wrists to my one large hand, leaving my other to freely explore her luscious mounds. She only sighed when my hand reached beneath her shift. I fondled the soft pliant flesh as her entire body responded to my touch. Her skin was soft as silk against my callused hands and I massaged her breast eagerly. And then suddenly, I captured her engorged nipple and crushed it between my fingers. She moaned loudly but still did not attempt to get away. Her head leaned back against my armour and I was sorely tempted to smother her wet mouth with my own but she had not yet earned the privilege.

"I ask again, Gabrielle, what is it you don't want me to do?"

"I.....uh.....," she panted.

"Hmm, the bard has lost her tongue, has she? Well, you'll be needing that later, trust me," I grinned at my own inside joke. My mind danced with visions of her mouth pleasuring me all over and of her body writhing beneath me as my captive slave. Beneath her thin tunic, my hand travelled unencumbered down her well-muscled abdomen. Finally, it led to her wet patch that soaked through her thin undergarments. I rubbed the damp apex and she writhed against my fingers, gasping breathlessly.

"Is this what you don't want me to do?" I asked, still wanting an answer to my initial query.

"No! Xena, I mean, yes, I mean, please, don't....... stop," she added. I didn't. My fingers kept up their gentle massage against her most sensitive spot. Through the cloth, I felt her lips, swollen and moist as they saturated the thin material. I longed to plunge my fingers into her innermost core, but I restrained myself. All in good time, I told myself, then I would take her beyond our wildest dreams.

I thought about the plethora of willing slaves I'd had as a warlord, many not even worthy of my slightest attention, turned away by my guards. But Gabrielle, she was different. I had never given myself so wholeheartedly to another even though I had not admitted it until that very moment. The moment I knew she would surrender herself to me. My body shook like the young girl I'd been before Cortese invaded my village. She seemed so virginal even though I knew she had already consummated her marriage to Perdicus, but it made her offering that much more precious. I knew she wanted to taste the pleasure of my whip, and a heady feeling of power filled me up inside.

I pushed aside the barrier of her britches and scooped up the sweet nectar to my lips. The finest wine could never compete. I was like a volcano waiting to explode and she was the one who ignited the fire that lay dormant for so long. I couldn't hold back my desires any longer. I ripped off her britches and threw her face down on the bed. She whimpered with delight at my forcefulness. The tattered remains of her britches dangled in my hand and I brought the cloth to my face, and inhaled the fragrant aroma. I could not imagine that the flowers in the Elysian Fields smelled any better.

Her fair cheeks invited my attention and I could not resist their beckoning call. I laid the weight of my body atop her smaller frame and she arched her back against me. My armour sank into her shoulder blades, leaving an imprint of my bronze swirls on her skin. She would bear my marks in the morning, but I didn't care and I knew neither would she.

"Gabrielle," I whispered, my voice husky like she'd never heard it before. "Am I to believe what you wrote, that you would welcome the lash of my whip?" I asked as I reached between her legs, searching for her hidden tunnel. She moaned into the pillow, her breath coming to her in sporadic doses. Wisps of her hair matted against her sweaty forehead. She panted out my name, "Xena!" and her legs opened, encouraging me to gain entrance to the most honeyed of caves.

"Do I understand that to be a yes?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed emphatically, and I responded by plunging two of my fingers into the silky deluge of her new-found womanliness. Her hips bucked against my hand and my palm rubbed steadily against her sensitive spot. I let her go against me like a wild stallion that only needed to be guided and tamed. And I willingly led the way like no other woman or man could. I pushed against her buttocks and felt my own rhythm matching hers. I wanted to ride her wave. I wanted to ride her home. Finally she screamed my name and then she went limp beneath me, taking huge gulps of much needed air. Slowly, I released my fingers from her tight grip and I turned her over to face me. The love I saw in her eyes pierced my soul and a rush of renewed desire washed over me. I took possession of her mouth and devoured her will, making her all my own.

My hands moved feverishly to tear off her sleeping tunic and she tried to yank off my armour as well. However, I would have none of it. I wanted her naked before me, like all my love slaves had been from the beginning. I gripped her wrists instantaneously and I laid her face down once again. With some rope hidden in my leathers I tied first one hand, then the other to the wooden posts of the bed. While she tried to turn over to watch me and grappled with the secured restraints, my lust reached a fever pitch as I knew that she was truly mine for the long night ahead of us. She moaned with a wanton hunger and I smiled at her feeble attempts to break free of her bindings.

"You struggle so exquisitely," I whispered, my lips just a hair's breath away from her ear. "Do you know how much it pleases me to see you resist? It makes me so hot," I purred. "But if you wish, I could untie you." I took in a deep breath and peered down the familiar dark path I had travelled so many times before. A heady rush overwhelmed me as I anticipated taking Gabrielle there for the first time. I was delighted when she vigorously shook her head at my suggestion to untie her. I knew even then that it was the last thing she wanted from me.

"No!" she nearly shouted, her voice quavering with a newly discovered fear, the fear that I would stop. She turned her head in a hopeless effort to reach my lips and I pulled back to tease her mercilessly. I retrieved more rope from my supplies and tied her feet firmly to the bottom of the bed. I examined the copious liquid that seeped from her hidden treasures, then dipped into the heavenly elixir and smeared the moisture along the back of her thigh. Her buttocks squeezed tight as she fruitlessly tried to meet my roaming hand but the bindings held fast and she was powerless to rush me.

I crawled my way up her body and lay heavily atop her smaller frame.

"Do you want to know what my britches smell like now?" I asked her as I rubbed my soaked undergarments against her ample bottom.

"Please, will you...." she moaned, her muscles expanding and contracting beneath me as her hips moved with a life of their own. Desperately, she tried to gain some much needed relief.

"Will I, what?" I asked, fully expecting a complete sentence from her.

"Please, Xena," she replied.

"If you want to please me, Gabrielle, you'll have to do better than that," I admonished, relishing the great difficulty she was having in speaking, a talent that usually came to her so naturally. She continued to grind into the mattress in a futile attempt to goad me into letting her have her way. I bore the weight of my body on my elbows but allowed her to feel my metal armour crush her tender skin once more. She hardly cared as she struggled to form the words that she wished to say.

"Will you use your....," she finally answered, still not able to use the appropriate words for her needy request. But it mattered little, because I knew that by the end of the night I would have her babbling incoherently. At the moment, however, she had no idea that unless she said the words, she would not get what she craved the most. Her naiveté was priceless.

"My what?" I patiently asked again.

A long moment passed and I knew a war inside her taunted her with the shame of greeting her dark primal urges with my own. But I had the patience to wait. I wasn't going anywhere and neither was she. Finally she spoke.

"Your whip," she said in a small voice laced with utter defeat.

I smiled broadly behind her, proud of her brave admission.

"Of course, my bard, but since it's your first time, we'll start with ten," I confided. I knew she would not be able to handle much more than that despite the twenty she professed to desire in her ambitious scroll.

"Yes, My Warrior Princess."

An inferno blast surged through my veins when she addressed me with the familiar title and with the utmost respect. I made a concerted effort to bring all of my faculties under control. I wanted her first taste of my whip to be nothing short of perfection.

I pulled away from her, despite her groaning protests, and slipped off my britches. I dangled them above her and let her catch a quick whiff of my fragrant passion. I watched her squirm with an uninhibited longing. Surely she would pass out if I didn't quell her appetite soon. I dropped my britches so that they partially covered her face, and retrieved first my whip, then my phallus from my saddlebag.

I fingered the weight of the medium sized whip and the smell and texture brought back so many memories for me that I had to consciously steady myself for the task at hand. She was waiting for me, so compliant in her submission.

"Count for me," I commanded. "If you stop, so will I." I echoed the phrase she'd used in her fantasy, however, unlike the"Xena" in her scroll, I had every intention of stopping in a heartbeat if I didn't hear her numeric signals to continue, "Do you understand?"

"Yes, My Warrior Princess."

The first stroke landed suddenly across her back and she gasped and jumped in surprise. It was a medium stroke designed more to get her attention rather than inflict severe pain. I had no intention of drawing blood. Nevertheless, a streaking welt raised across her fair skin and I waited patiently for her to count out the lash.

"One!" she exclaimed, breathless from the initial contact. I smiled at her obedient response, as I was eager to continue but not anxious to push her beyond her limits. A second stroke landed criss cross in my favourite configuration and I admired my handiwork. I realised I was out of practice but my arms remembered like it was yesterday and the design of a perfect "X" became visible along the broad of her back.

"Two!" she answered. I paused momentarily to let her catch her breath. Lazily, I traced the lines of my marks and absorbed the heat that emanated from her. Her breathing was heavy and ragged and she attempted to lift her body off the bed to meet my probing hand. I soothed the fire on her back and then reached between her thighs. A flood of liquid greeted me and I slipped a finger inside to quell my insatiable hunger.

"Three," she counted as I continued making an alternating pattern on her back. Four, five, six, seven and then eight lashes struck her and I waited once more to allow her time to get her breath. She was moaning relentlessly into the pillow and I knew that she was nearly delirious for my touch. While I waited, I discarded my armour and removed all of my leathers. The mild exertion made wearing the hot leathers unbearable and besides, I was eager to feel her red hot skin melt into mine.

Finally, I stood naked behind her. I collected my phallus and attached to it the leather harness I had finagled out of the local tanner earlier in the day. I hadn't very much use for one in the past few years but my body instantly remembered how much pleasure one of them could bring. I carefully adjusted the harness and secured the phallus in its proper place. My hands shook nervously as it had been much too long since I'd engaged in such carnal pleasures. I took in a deep breath and reappeared at Gabrielle's side, anxious to take what I knew was already mine. But first, the final two lashes awaited.

"Gabrielle, are you ready for the final two?" It was a question I knew need not be answered.

"Xena! Please fuck me!" she blurted out breathlessly. I laughed at her crude words, my little bard who was usually so eloquent with words had resorted to the most basic of requests. I also wondered if she had already taken a peek at the pleasant surprise I had waiting for her.

"Yes, I will, my bard, but first you must count. Are you ready?"

"Yes, My Warrior Princess," she said and I was pleased that despite her frenzied condition, she still had the wherewithal to dutifully address me with my proper title. My arm came down harder than all the other strokes.

"Nine!" she cried out. I crossed the lash to blaze my final impression across the width of her back. "Ten!" she shouted and slumped into the mattress. In a flash, I dropped the whip and lay across her back. My breasts crushed against her as I absorbed the heat that radiated from her. My phallus pushed against her as I readied myself to dive into her overflowing centre.

"My little bard, are you ready for me now?"

"Yes! Xena, please fuck me, please, I can't stand it anymore, please ,you're making me crazy...." Her rambling words were music to my ears, it thrilled me to no end to know that I had turned my beloved bard into a babbling idiot. She'd not been the first lover that I'd been able to do that to.

I released her arms and feet from the rope bindings and I turned her over hastily. I could hardly wait to claim my prize. I immediately smothered her mouth with my own and we grunted like wild animals as her hands meandered freely along my sinewy muscles. She was thoroughly crazed as she moaned my name over and over again, begging me to take her. I could hardly manage to guide my phallus into her waiting tunnel. Then in one swift movement, I submerged inside her and she screamed. I drove hard and we matched the rhythm of all our ancient ancestors before us. The steady rocking between us drove me closer to the edge as the harness that held the phallus rubbed against me as well.

"Yes, fuck me, Gabrielle," I cried, nearly delirious myself with her incessant moans. Our rocking built to a steady pitch, reaching for a crescendo that we knew would overtake us. Soon we were both peering over the edge of the precipice and tumbled head over heels into the black abyss.

We were quiet for a long while after as I held her close to my chest. Her face pressed between my breasts as she listened to the steady beating of my heart. I smoothed her hair away from her face and weaved my fingers through her soft tresses. She wrapped one arm tightly around my waist, the other she held fast at my shoulder. I was content to just feel her gentle weight upon me.

"Xena?"

"Hm?" I murmured. "When you were a warlord, was is ever this, um.....?"

"What?"

"Was it ever this good?"

"Never! Gabrielle, never!"

"Well, in that case, remind me to leave more of my secret scrolls lying around for you to find."

THE END