Daydreams & Distractions ☼ Droit de Cuissage

Droit de Cuissage
A Daydream & Distraction by RedBud

Anno 1843

Dear Husband,

During your moments of passion you have asked whether my first orgasm was with you.  I tell you, dear Husband, there is no other woman who so gratefully or willingly submits to her betrothed as I to you.  How many times have I born your weight and happily taken your pleasure inside me?  Even as I write this I know that, tonight, when you return from your long absence, the joy of our reunion will find its release in my womb.  My sex already moistens, grows thick and anticipates.

But I write you a truth which all women hide.
As you are a man of honor, and my husband, I know these words will remain a secret.
You must first know that the Sidh, the glowing ones, or Faeries (which is how we, as little girls, used to call them) are real.  From the time that I was a little girl I would know how to find the faeries.  I went alone sometimes or with my friend, always of the same age.  We would find them quickly in the gardens bustling among the rose and calendula and they would always lead us to their roost.

The Faeries are most beautiful and delightful creatures.  They wear no clothes, despite the drawings you so commonly see, and are always women.  Their wings are like those of the dragonfly.  One may see straight through them as though one looked through a clear stain-glassed window.  They flew around us and, young as we were, their wings caused us to laugh and giggle as if someone were tickling us.
There always seemed to be a table prepared for us and enough seats.  The table was always set impeccably, with such silver and gold placements as would dazzle us and delight.  Flowers of every kind were strewn upon the table and upon the grounds surrounding us.  Vines of a most peculiar kind made a canopy above us such that even in the heaviest downpour we remained untouched.

But most delightful of all was the tea which we were served.  As little girls, it was always sweet to the taste and we always desired more.  But the faeries would only ever allow us to drink one cup, however long it took, and once we finished our tea, the faeries and all their magical settings would vanish.  We never wondered that boys did not accompany us during our tea parties.

But one does not remain a girl indefinitely.  Inevitably, the girl grows into a young woman.  She changes and becomes desirable to boys and men and ways she does not understand.  Even so, the young woman still thinks fondly upon her girlhood and so, one day, she seeks the magical, forgetful realm of the Faerie.  She wanders into the garden, as I did, and is delighted to still find them.

On just such an afternoon I returned to the Faerie realm.  I returned with a dear cousin. But when the wings of the Sidh touched our skin, as they had been wont to do in our youths, we  did not laugh.  The light, breath-like touch of their wings had a profoundly different effect upon us.  We gasped and shuddered.  Soon, their excited flight touched us in ways and in places that made us dizzy with a breathlessness we did not comprehend. They were excited by our presence in a way that they had never been.

Eventually we sat with the Fearies, as all girls turned young women do, and sipped the tea that we had loved as children.  But because we were no longer girls, the tea’s effect upon us was like that of a magic elixir.  We felt desires we had never felt before.  We saw the tiny Faeries smile at us, open their legs, and draw up their knees in mid-flight.  Hovering before our eyes, watching our own languor, they stroked themselves between their tiny thighs.  Their small backs would arch and little paroxyms would overcome them until the next Faerie took their place.  Some landed upon the table upon their hands and knees.  They would reach with one hand between their legs, lower their cheeks to the table’s surface, and quiver in their own tiny convulsions.

What all these postures and positions meant, we did not understand.

But with a kind of instinct we reached between our own legs, having spread them wide, and could not help but touch ourselves in that place we had never dallied before.  We were like them in all but wings – shaped the same way, having grown breasts like theirs, and hips.  In their lascivious antics, in the strange positions they took, we imagined ourselves.

As if we had drunk a magic potion (whose sweetness only affects those in readiness) we lifted our arms. The Faeries twittered in wild excitement as though, after years of play with girls, a long awaited day had arrived.  They pulled our clothes from us.  We groaned as their tiny wings brushed our nipples and thighs.  Soon we were naked.
Then, Dear Husband, we saw him.  He, whom we had never before seen, came into our presence – the Faerie Lord.  He was no man though in size and shape he seemed like one.  His ears were like those of a Faerie – pointed – and his wings were of many different colors.  Both I and my dear cousin were terrified, but we also felt a strange desire.

He stood before us, naked.
His prick stood proudly.

We could not explain why we should spread our legs rather than flee.  Our fingers discovered a heat and wetness at the base of our belly, the purpose of which we did not understand.  The Faerie Lord smiled beautifully and proffered his hands.

Dear Husband, we could not help but stand.  He took each of our youthful hands in his and kissed the backs of our hand.

Then he led us to the warm, green sward, suddenly awash with violet and dandelion.  The scent of flowers was like an incense to us.  It seemed the very air caressed us with scent of jasmine, jonquil and columbine.  The tiny Faeries, still excitedly twittering around us, magically braided morning glory in our hair, and draped our slender waists with the pink flower of antigonon and of course, narcissus between our toes.

The Faerie Lord, smiling warmly all the while, laid us gently on the grass such that out cheeks touched, but she lay with her feet to the west, mine to the east.  We spread our legs without understanding the reason.  We knew only a great warmth and langorousness that caused our tender nipples to stand achingly from our breasts, that caused us to blush and our eyes to droop.  The Faeries brushed our nipples with bluebell and nectar of the honeysuckle.  We arched and stretched deliriously.
The Faerie Lord moved to my cousin first.  Because I could not see what he did without uncomfortably arching my neck, I simply let my head fall to the side, such that our lips almost touched, such that I could witness my cousin’s trance-like expressions.

“He holds me open, Cousin,” she whispered to me, her lips flushed and parted.  “He parts my thighs and…” I suddenly saw her eyes roll, heard her gasp and inhale, saw her stiffen and her neck arch so that her neck and shoulders were lifted off the grass.  Then she exhaled and I saw her fall langorously back to the earth.  Her head fell back to its side and our lips met.  I could not help but kissed her passionately for she had never seemed so lovely and vulnerable to me.  She breathed her groans into my own mouth.  Her body was shaken rhythmically and I did not comprehend why, though I knew that the Faerie Lord was positioned between her open thighs and saw him above us, smiling kindly as we kissed.  My cousin’s breaths grew weaker, shallower and more uneven until her fingers reached for mine and she spoke, barely a whisper.  “I die, Cousin.  I die.” I did not understand the nature of her swoon but tasted something both sweet and acrid in her mouth.  The Faerie Lord had risen.

My cousin lay next to me, her lips parted, her eyes heavy, as though drugged, but her breath deep and calmed.  A white pearlescent effluence seemed to feel her mouth.  She swallowed.  Some dripped from the corner of her mouth and streaked her chin.

Then I felt the Faerie Lord’s hands gently at my ankles.  I turned to gaze at him.  His hair was like gold and his eyebrows arched like that of an Elf’s.  His skin was also of that same golden hue and I felt the desire press my hands against his strong chest and his nipples, like dark roses, beckoned my mouth.  He gently parted my legs and, as if in a drunken stuper, I could not stop him.  His prick stood proudly from his loins as he lowered himself.  Then, supporting himself on one hand, he gently palmed my cheek and gazed at me with both tenderness and sadness, as though remembering my former self.

Then, Dear Husband, in that moment of tender distraction, the length of his prick pierced me.  Just as my cousin had, I inhaled sharply and rose off the ground such that only the heels of my feet and my head touched the earth.  My hands had gripped the Faerie Lord’s arms.  I cried out at this unknown piercing.  Then as if that were not sufficient, I felt him draw back and pierce me again and again, as though there were some effect he wished to achieve.  I fell back to the earth and, my head fell to the side and lips met my cousin’s.  This time she kissed me with a passion I did not fully understand.

Her fingertips moved upon my shoulders and downward toward my breasts.

Why did the Faerie Lord continue to pierce me deeply again and again?  To what use did he put my body?  As I was to later decide: This would be the fate of all girls or, should I say, young women.  Some part of me struggled against a rising heat within my belly, a heat that I did not understand.  But the Faerie Lord was as relentless as he was gentle, and just as knowing in what he did, for we were like beautiful flowers to him – which he always made to blossom.
I might have wished to close my legs, but somehow could not.  I might have wished to draw myself off the length of his prick, so insistently inside me, but somehow, with each withdrawal, I desired to be filled by it again.

And then, like a dam that breaks, the nub of heat, which he provoked with his piercing, burst and spread downward through my thighs, and downward until my toes arched; upward into my young breasts and shoulders until I couldn’t breath, and only escaped my lips with a long cry and moan.  I felt myself grip his prick, hard, again and again, in despite of any will or intention of my own.  I could not stop the pleasure of these strong contractions.  Listlessly, with a kind of surrendering welcome, I felt similar, quick, spasms emanating from his prick.  I felt a warmth filling me and welcomed it.  But more so, like magic, I felt the warmth fill not just my womb, but pour into my legs and upwards until the thickness of his effluence filled my mouth with the same sweet and acrid pearlescence that had filled my cousin’s mouth.  I swallowed, instinctively, as my cousin had, though I also felt it drip from the corner’s of my mouth.

What then, Dear Husband?

We awoke in our own beds.  And by a Faerie magic humans cannot explain, our virtue was still intact.  Both I and my cousin were naked and the crown of flowers was still twined in our hair.  Our mouths and sexes were still wet with the sweet ichor of the Faerie Lord.  (And that, Dear Husband, is what all men taste and enjoy; and it is that which pours forth from our womb during our swoon of desire and passion.)  My cousin and I gazed at each other.  Only later would we truly understand the nature of our initiation.  In all their strange acrobatics, the excited Faeries had shown us the positions to which we might look forward, the pleasures to which our femininity was heir too.  We were girls no longer.
It is the Faerie Lord who teaches us our first orgasm and instructs us in the uses of our new womanhood.  His is the Droit de Cuissage – The Lord’s First Night. And though no woman may ever return to that Faerie realm or the Faerie Lord, we seek him until we find the one man who reminds us of him (though the memory in many women is obscured or even forgotten).  Such a man, Dear Husband, is who we wed.

You, my Dear Husband, am now and shall ever be – my Faerie Lord.

:Will Crimson
December 4 2009

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