The Conjured and the exiles

It was two days before Daen’s fever broke and it would be at least two more days before in Lord Darcia’s opinion she would be ready to travel. But while Daen had been convalescing Lord Darcia had not been entirely idle and he had written a steady stream of letters on lamentably poor paper as well as spending the lions portion of the day out on his horse, although where he went and what he did was a mystery to Daen. For the most part she told herself that she didn’t care that he was gone and she was defiantly not even remotely curious as to what he was up to; but she had to admit it was dull without him. Not because she liked him of course but simply because it was someone to talk to.

But every time Daen herd a horse on the road outside she would pull her robe on and get out of bed to see who it was. And when ever it was not him she felt a growing disappointment.

Later that evening Lord Darcia returned and entered the parlor with a large package under his arm. Daen felt his gaze run over her sleep tousled form, judging her recovery. Darcia was smiling behind his mask, and it showed in the tone of his voice as he placed the package he had been holding on the table. ‘For you.’

‘More medicine?’ Daen looked at him with curiosity. When her fever still had yet to brake Lord Darcia had returned from one of his excursions with a large bottle of what Daen knew to be very expensive and hard to obtain medicine. It had worked wonders to help clear her chest even though it was possibly the vilest thing she had ever had the pleasure to swallow.

Lord Darcia shook his head. ‘Open it and find out.’

The young woman opened it carefully and kept glancing up at Darcia attempting to read his expression. Eventually she gave up in that pursuit and concentrated on his gift. Inside the bulky package were two full outfits much like the first gown she had worn, neither were particularly practical but lovely. There were two jars of sweet smelling concoctions which Darcia informed her were shampoo and a form of soap. There was a small silver bottle filed with a delicate sent, lavender on a clear day she thought.

‘I thought you might like it.’ Darcia said quietly when she sniffed it cautiously. Looking up at him she slowly applied a little of it to her wrists, then sniffed it there.

‘It smells lovely.’

Finally there was a beautiful flat backed lacquer brush, upon it the Darcia seal emblazoned in red and black. Daen turned it in her hands admiring how it was perfectly balanced in her hands, and how the bristles were soft but still stiff.

‘This brush must have cost a fortune?’

‘Probably.’ Lord Darcia answered nochalantly. ‘My father had it made for my mother, but she never used it as she liked her own set better I believe.’

Daen ran her fingers over one of the silk gowns. ‘Thank you, you didn’t have to…’

‘As my possession how you look reflects upon me it behooves me to make sure that you are well cared for.’ Darcia replied blandly.

Daen sighed, and flashed him a dour look, thinking to herself ‘you have to ruin everything don’t you?’

Darcia seemed not to notice, and having been alone all day save for the industrious Mrs. Tiggs the inn keeper’s wife she was not going to be dinied someone to have a real conversation with even if that person was Lord up himself Darcia.

‘We leave tomorrow.’

Daen nodded and forced a smile. ‘Good.’

It fell quiet for a moment. Daen decided to take the inititive and leaned forwards conspiratorially. ‘ I’m beginning to think that Mrs Tiggs was thinking of having me for dinner one night if we stayed hear much longer.’

‘How very fairy tale like.’ He inclined his head towards her, his gesture for amusement.

‘She’s always stuffing me with food at any given opportunity. Fattening me up apparently.’ Daen petted her belly and sighed in mock exasperation. ‘And all the herbs she makes me drink, or wash in, or use as lotion, I think she is trying to baste me!’

Lord Darcia laughed.

‘I must taste delicious by now!’

‘I’m sure you do.’ Darcia purred. Daen blushed and looked away. Perhaps he didn’t ruin everything. The rest of the evening then was passed by quite comfortably in something that could have been construed as flirtation.


What the noble had in mind for the next day was somewhat of an unpleasant surprise for the young woman. Lord Darcia had told her after breakfast that he would be leaving her with a friend of his for a couple of days.

‘The carriage is waiting down stairs; we will be going as soon as you get dressed.’

‘You’re going to leave me with another group of nobles!? Why can’t I come with you?’ Daen protested.

‘Because I am going back to the capital.’ Darcia sighed and patiently explained his reasons. ‘ And right now you are in no state to spend time there right now you will be better off in the countryside where the air is clearer.’

Daen managed to stop her bottom lip from wobbling and said with more stubbornness then she thought herself capable. 'I won't go. I will just run away again, or i will scream and evryone will know...’

‘Why must you be so difficult?’ He sighed like a man deeply wronged. Darcia strode over to her catching her wrists, she coward at the thought of that strange painful spell that he had used before, but then was thoroughly surprised when he picked her up. For one dreadful moment she thought that he was going to simply march down stairs with her in her nightie and simply dump her in the carriage. But he did neither things and instead sat down on the stool turning her over on his lap so that she lay face down across his thighs.

Daen struggled futily but his hold on the back of her neck was too firm. ‘Let me go!’ she struggled trying to kick him or trying to squirm off his lap.

'I Don't think so little one.' he laughed. 'I think you have forgoten who is your master now.' She was as powerless as a child. In fact to lord Darcia wearing that over side cotton gown, with messy hair and a petulant pout the little witch looked more girl than woman; perhaps that was what had made him chose this course of punishment, it seemed the most fitting. Ignoring her protests he flicked up her nightgown baring her bottom to the air. There was nothing childish about the firm curves Darcia noticed with male appreciation as he picked up the flat paddle brush from the table.

Daen let out an outraged squeal as something hard was brought down upon her rump with a loud and painful thwack. Before she had fully comprehended what had happened it came again, then again. Lord Darcia was spanking her like a child across his knee with the hair brush he had given her; she was completely and utterly mortified.

After the initial squeal Daen had managed to bite her lip and remained quiet save for small whimpers and the sobs she held back. The noble brought the brush down upon her punished backside three more times making six thwacks in all. Daen noted that he didn’t hit her in the same place twice, but instead chose to tan her poor bottom all over so that every bit of her rear was a stinging pink.

Darcia admired his handy work, nothing with particular satisfaction that his crest was indented in to her skin, his personal stamp on his work. the nobles ungloved palm ran over her heated flesh, making her hiss in discomfort. He smiled evilly as he caressed and needed her rosy red globes. He loved the contradiction her proffered rear offered him, soft and firm all at the same time. It begged to be touched.

Daen was beginning to feel light headed; laying face down on his lap her blood was rushing to her head. As the initial sting began to fade his ministrations to her abused backside began to feel good to the hyper sensitive skin and the deeper kneeding sent waves of warmth up her spine and right to her womanhood. When he brushed the cool flat side of the paddle brush against her rear cheek she cooed. It was exactly what she had wanted something to sooth the heat.

Lord Darcia noticing her reaction as he continued to explore the soft pliant texture of her bottom, he began to kneed lower, and his eyes closed momentarily when his fingers discovered her slick heat for the first time now delightfully wet. He flicked his fingertips across her slit and she let out a soft moan. Pleased with her reaction he turned the brush around in his hand and caressed her skin with its handle; gently he slid the smooth cool handle of the brush to spread her swollen petals. He took in a deep breath, lavender and her own sweet musk.

His other hand released its hold on her neck and resumed the other hands dutiful kneading and stroking of her chastised flesh. Just as he had hoped for the girl did not flee instead she unconsciously began to rub against the handle, seeking the friction her body needed to find its release.

Daen was not exactly sure what she was doing, but right now she couldn’t find a reason not to be doing what she was doing. He had already proven he had an incredible amount of control over her, at least this way she could get something out of the whole ordeal. It was like been just a little drunk simply giving up and fealing. The hard object that her body had been writhing up against now inserted itself in to her slick passage, sliding in and out in languid thrusts which grew incresingly faster. With a shudder Daen stilled suddenly as her climax finally washed over her in a wave that left her stupefied and limp.

She lay panting across his lap for a few moments. It was in this time that she noticed the jut of Darcia’s obvious appreciation for their antics just now sticking into her hip. Daen rolled to the side a little and slid to the floor. She expected that Lord Darcia would want to have his own arousal taken care of, but he simply stood a bit uncomfortable it might be added and waked out of the room pausing only to tell her to get ready quickly as if she made him late there would be hell to pay. And it was not for the first time that Daen was left wondering just what kind of man was Lord Darcia exactly?

In any case she was soon sitting in the carriage as Darcia rode beside it on his horse bound for where only Darcia himself knew. It was beginning to be the story of her life.