Thread: In the Shadow of Camelot: A Femdom Arthurian Tale (Closed)

Morgana smiled kindly at him, gazing at him as though she understood completely. Arthur, there is nothing to apologize for, she said in a soft, melodic voice, once again taking his hand from across the table. You are not accountable for the actions of your father. You could not have known. All the same, I am appreciative. Your Majesty is generous. Your words are...too kind. It was true. She had never received an apology in any way, shape or form regarding her step-father's treatment of her. It was something that she had dwelt upon as a child, but as she grew older and began to see the shadows of destiny that awaited her, Morgana's rage and sorrow were reduced to nothing more than luke-warm embers which very seldom, when fanned to life, sprang to a modest fire. For the most part, her anger had dissipated. All that remained was a subdued bitterness, a foul taste in her mouth when she thought of Uther. But she found that even that mellowed into something very manageable when she looked upon Uther's son. Arthur was not his father - they were so vastly different, and that was perhaps what Morgana enjoyed the most. Deciding to leave it at that, Morgana once more pulled her hand from his in order to cut herself another small plum. His next words made her laugh, and she glanced at him, grinning. Crazed or dishonest though they are, liars and madmen make habit of weaving the most interesting tales, she pointed out. I would never doubt a man such as yourself, my lord. Whatever you see fit to tell, I'm certain that I will enjoy hearing of it. Now, regale me! she demanded, leaning back in her chair slightly the order sounded so ludicrous that she was hardly able to keep a straight face. She picked up her goblet and brought it to her lips to drink heartily as Arthur spoke ... And so it continued, with rousing conversation and plenty of laughter. Evening blended seamlessly into night, and before she knew it, several hours had passed since Arthur had showed up in her doorway. The wine began to flow more and more freely, and though Morgana was not nearly as intoxicated as she was acting - she was in fact still fairly sober of mind - she started to consider her half-brother in a different light. Or, not so different. The moment she'd laid eyes on Arthur, she had been awed by him. There was no denying his beauty. Even now, smiling goofily and staring at her with that happy, glazed look of a man well-indulged, she found it very difficult to take her eyes off him. Yes, yes... Morgana said wisely, nodding her head as though she'd actually listened to a word Arthur had just said. As it were, she'd been rather distracted by the way his lips moved when he spoke, and from that, even wilder thoughts of how those lips might feel against her own, or trailing hotly down her neck, or perhaps even pressing against the flesh of her inner thigh before ... Before she knew what she was doing - maybe she wasn't as sober of mind as she'd previously assumed - Morgana was leaning forward, perched on the very edge of her seat, moving sideways to avoid the edge of the table that separated them, a very uncomfortable position that could've had her toppling out of her chair if her hand didn't find purchase on Arthur's thigh. She could feel the warmth of his flesh plainly even though his clothing, and as though the heat were absorbed through her palm, she began to feel warm herself. A burning, but not unpleasant, sensation was building within her, like a hot coil was wound tight inside her stomach and was slowly uncurling. Arthur... she whispered, her face inches from his own. There was an intensity in her eyes as she stared into his own for a few long moments. The air in the room suddenly felt very close, almost stifling, and there was no denying that it all but vibrated with sexual tension. Her gaze shifted downward, to his mouth, and then, without giving herself time to think about it, Morgana kissed him. Her mouth opened just slightly and her tongue touched just briefly against his own, while at the same time her hand slid a bit further up his thigh. It wasn't at all how she'd imagined it. But it was good. It was so, so good, and she didn't want to stop. Still, she had to. This wasn't a game that she took lightly, and it would be nothing short of disastrous to play all her cards at once. So she pulled back, quite suddenly, and kept her poker face. Morgana stared at him for a moment, her eyes wide with what might have been fear. She removed her trembling hand from Arthur's leg, and clasped her hands demurely in her lap...as though any sense of decency could be regained now. Brother, I, funny how she reverted back to the familial term now, forgive me, but I think perhaps you should go. It has been a pl-- a joy to dine with you this evening, but I am...quite weary, and I wish to retire now.