The shadow of a dream-like form appears through Aidan’s closed eyes as she drifts into light sleep. She stirs and momentarily opens her eyes, yet sees nothing. A strange feeling overcomes her, yet she feels no threat. Soft gossamer fingers glide over her flesh, searching and teasing until she moans softly in her sleep. Time passes and she continues this dream. Her body reacts to the physical and mental powers playing upon her simultaneously.
Aidan sees Monty in her dreams and almost feels his hands on her, touching the places that bring out the passion that is so often hidden under her ladylike facade. Two hours pass, yet the tower bells cease to ring in the new day. In an unspoken command, Monty causes her to stand up. Aidan slowly rises with the grace of a swan. With another unspoken command, Aidan removes her outer garments and they fall away to the floor. The flickering light plays a hypnotic melody inside her mind. She stands straight and her white linen chemise unwrinkles. The bodice, dotted with smocking and embroidered blue cornflowers, rises and falls with each slow, content breath.
Guided by this unseen force, in her sleep state Aidan walks across the room and through the open doorway. She continues to follow, undaunted by the growing darkness on the never-traveled path before her. The wood and stones that make up the floors and walls remain cold and unnoticed as she follows. Monty glances back, making certain that Aidan continues to follow him. Although he has placed her in trancelike states previously, she has never been required to move from their bed chambers.
Without thought, he leads her down the massive mahogany staircase and through the East wing of the mansion. As they approach the unfinished West wing, Aidan hesitates. She teeters on the balls of her feet, and her eyelids fight to open. Monty wills her to continue, and she follows once again. The gauzy chemise does little to protect from the cold, yet she is wrapped in a cocoon of serenity and feels no discomfort. Still, Monty wonders whether it is the chill of the surroundings or her thoughts of what might transpire that cause her nipples to tighten and peek from under her chemise. He smiles knowingly as he listens to the blended sounds of her heartbeats, the soft rustling of the linen as it catches between her thighs, and the quiet whispers of her feet against the stone floor.
The two descend down the tunnel-like stairway to the underground rooms. Slick green lichen growing on the stone walls creates a musty odor; yet, Aidan continues to follow. Monty stops at the bottom of the stairs and effortlessly pushes the iron gate open. The rusty metal hinges and brackets creak under the weight of old age. Monty hears his wife’s pulse quicken as he steps aside and points ahead for her to enter. Within two steps, the couple enters the dungeon. Aidan hesitates as the spirits who abide in this place reach out and touch her senses. She shudders and awakens to candlelight flickering across the large limestone blocks that make up the walls. . Torches placed in holders recall times long passed.
Monty looks deeply into his wife’s eyes and points to the far corner. There, set on an angle, rests a large slab of polished grey-white limestone, resting on a crude wooden frame. No utterances are exchanged, yet Monty’s command enters Aidan’s mind, and she knows she is to lie on the slab. His eyes hold hers now, in a way that she has never felt, deeper even than the love they have shared.
Aidan runs her hand along the stone and trembles. Effortlessly, she glides onto the altar-like slab, first sitting and then slowing into a prone posture. The depths Aidan sees in Monty’s eyes mesmerize her as she reads the enormity of his passion. His gaze enraptures her, and her mind seems to melt into his. Leaning over her, Monty takes her wrists and lifts them above her head, as if to fasten them in unseen fetters. Aidan complies by remaining in the pose.
Placing his hands on the bodice of the chemise, Monty opens the cloth as though it were wet paper, baring Aidan’s alabaster flesh to his lustful eyes. Her breasts heave as they escape the confines of the fabric. The honey-colored nubs tighten on her chest. His hands begin to move slowly over her body, touching her in ways that are both familiar yet new. Monty spreads her thighs with a gentle movement of his hands, and her dampness is exposed. Candlelight catches the glistening dew as it sparkles downward and disappears under Aidan. Slowly, he strokes her intimately, building the fire within her. His fingers trace along the smooth flesh of her Mons Venus and across her swollen cunny lips as his other hand excites and teases her breasts.
He plays her body like a Master plays the violin, creating feelings and sensations as only he can. Aidan’s eyes half close as ecstasy mounts deep inside her belly. She listens to breathing, perhaps hers, or perhaps Monty’s. His long, slender fingers spread her juices over the swollen lips that mark the entrance to her passion, pushing back the hood that attempts to conceal her pearl. “Please, Beloved,” Aidan whispers between ragged breaths, “Take me.” Grasping the sensitive flesh between his fingers, Monty pumps it slowly until her hips move to his rhythm, not her own. Taking her to the edge and then backing away, he forces her body to higher and higher degrees of passion and need.
