Alexander and Julie

But in the days that followed, he conceived of a plan that would solve both problems in one strike. The key was her diet. He had been feeding her different variations of broth for several days now, and it had enabled her to take in some nourishment. He mixed in a herb that caused an itchy but harmless rash to form all over her body.

"Please, for your own good, use the salve," he urged the girl again, "Your sickness is far from over. You do not realise how serious your condition is." He didn't want to frighten her too much, but he did need to get her to use the salve. However, he also modified the composition of the salve, adding in liberal amounts of the sacred herb and other stimulating oils.

'For what reason?' his conscience chided him as he mixed in another spoonful in the little kettle over the warm embers. He convinced himself it was to make the salve more aromatic and appealing, and that it would improve the healing of the scars, but the sacred herb, his costly key ingredient, had nothing to do with scars. It was known to increase the appeal of any salve that it was added to, but great caution was urged in its use, due to possibly unwanted side-effects. However, the manuscript was not altogether clear as to the exact side-effects involved. From the context, he could deduce it was not life-threatening, but more to do with behaviour. As always, additional research was called for.

So in part at least, he was putting it in the ointment because he had a hypothesis that he wanted to test empirically. The risk was minimal, but it would satisfy his curiosity.

But his intentions were good, weren't they? He would offer the girl a life, so wonderful, so dashing, that her squalid agricultural existence could never live up to the likes of it. But first he needed to work on her, to shape her mind for the job ahead, a queen destined to rule thousands and by good neighbourhood offer peace to countless more. He needed her loyalty to ensure this peace and desperately wanted this experiment to succeed. He would hate to have to think of terminating an experiment gone wrong. That would clearly be a black deed. He wanted to stay within the light side of the force. But already he noticed that the small evil that had been perpetrated in her abduction was possibly multiplying, even though not in public.

The woodsmen who had tried to rape Julie naturally guarded their secret, in order to escape prosecution. The family made a few trips to the court, to bring their case before the king. The bailiff searched the countryside for days, but her body was never found. How could it have been?

Chapter three, in which Julie learns to read.

Julie, or should we say Nympha, had turned out to be a quick learner. The penalty of the rash was not incurred again. She had begun to use the salve on a daily basis. As her strength returned and she slept less, she began to ask more questions about her former life. He told her that he did not know what her life had been like and that she could not see anyone yet, to prevent contagion of this serious illness. To occupy her mind, Alexander brought her an alphabet and a simple book. He explained the system of sounds for letters to her, and how to spell the words out to herself and understand them.

The first few days, progress was painstakingly slow. He would stand outside the door of her cell, hidden in the shadow, listening to the sounds of her activities. The rustling of the bedsheet when she got out of bed. The turning of the pages and the scribbling on her tablet. The spelling out of words, mumbled to herself. He had given her a translated collection of tales from the Arabian world, that are set during the night, when a queen speaks to her Lord. This particular version was rare, for it had come through the later religious revolutions unscathed by deleterious censure.

[For those readers who would like to know what Alexander heard, here follows an excerpt from his diary around that time.]

One evening, hidden in the shadows, I heard the 'tale of the man and the woodnymph' being spelled out by Julie word for word. It was a simple story, told from the perspective of a warrior, travelling through a wild and remote area. At night, a djinn in the guise of a woodnymph comes to seduce him under the tree where he has set up camp. The language is easy to follow, but never turns vulgar. The attractive features of the woodnymph are dealt with in some poetic length. Then follows a description of her seductive maneuvres, which treat mostly of the art of female solitary exploration as the warrior observes. It was by the wispy quality of her voice that I could notice that Julie's breathing had become deeper and its shakiness registered her fluttering heartbeart. But then again, some gain to the heart function was to be expected from the sacred herb.

After the story ended, I heard her close the book and get up to put it on the table. The bedsheets rustled, the straw on the floor was stirred. The glow of her candle went out in the corridor, casting only the bleak light of the moon on the visible right wall of her cell, that was let in by a thin arrow-slit high up. Otherwise, only the lapping of the waves on the shore, far below the cliff, were the only sounds in the blueish twilight. I heard her take something from the table and sit down on the bed. A lid was unfastened and a sticky noise could be heard, the sound of her fingers scooping a generous helping of the ointment out of the bowl. She was going to take care of her rash, which was rapidly diminishing. But as I had only seen her face, hands and feet, I couldn't know for sure she was completely cured of it. I had taken the irritative herb out of her food, but wanted to know whether the medication had done its work.

I did not know if I would dare to creep near. If she discovered I was spying on her, that would not increase her confidence in me. I inched forward, ever so careful not to make a noise. There was no straw or loose stone in the corridor, I had made sure of that. Slowly my line of sight shifted so I could look into a larger portion of the cubicle. The foot of the bed came into view. I kept close to the other wall of the corridor, to remain in the shadows. My cloak rustled ever so slightly and I dared not take a breath. But breathing could certainly be heard, accompanied by a soft melodic humming to herself, with pointed intervals and occasional silences, like waves gently lapping on the shore of a pristine white beach.

Using the sound as a cover, I carefully moved further down the corridor. The bed was now mostly visible, a nest of pale white sheets in the moonlight. They had been flung back and Julie was sitting on the edge of the bed. This was the first time since her encounter with the crooks that I saw her in a state of undress. But contrary to the battered looks she had worn then, her body was now in a poise of utmost grace and delicacy. She was siting crosslegged in the bed, cupping her breasts in her hands, while making rotating movements to lavishly apply the salve to their entire surface. At regular intervals she would gently squeeze her ample globes and roll her fingers around the area of her nipples, until she caught the buds between thumb and forefinger, rolling them and pinching them before ending with a gentle tug. She took more ointment and started working down her skinny ribs and down the front of her feminine tummy. Meanwhile, even in the moonlight, the flush on her pale face could be clearly seen, her cheeks must be glowing red.

The formula of the salve had clearly had its effect. Including the magic herb had done wonders to unlock that special instinct in the human soul, the craving for erotic nourishment. The fact that her body was in the throes of early womanhood must have combined favourably with the active ingedient. This was an added bonus to the experiment and something that I had anticipated from the literature, but had not seriously entertained. Or had I?

I knew ought to leave now, but I couldn't make myself get up and move away. I watched entranced as she took more salve and began to rub it into her legs, starting with her feet…

Chapter four, in which Julie becomes Nympha.

Julie lay on her back in the soft moonlight, supported by a pillow, and pulled her leg close to her chest to massage the magic potion into her feet. It made the flesh tingle and glow with warmth, which was nice in the slightly chilly atmosphere of the cell. Her thoughts strayed to the reading she had been doing. It had been hard at first, but today's story had completely enraptured her. Though she was not hungry, she felt intellectually drained. Her eyes were irritated and she wanted to relax. She had felt a warm glow from the potion on earlier evenings, but today it seemed especially fierce. And when her entire body was rubbed in, she remembered how dreamy and relaxed she had felt last night. That feeling was something she could definitely get used to.

Working up her shapely lower legs, which absorbed the lotion rapidly, her hands were starting to feel dry as she reached her knees. She decided on taking another liberal scoop of ointment from the jar. There was certainly enough in the pot and that young doctor, whoever he was, had ordered her to use it. He replenished her supply daily by adding a fresh batch and mixing it through the old salve. She had not wanted to use the stuff when she first came to this place, because she was still being fed evasive answers about what happened to her.

But then there had been that rash as a side-effect of her illness. Some terrible fever had wiped out her memory of the things she had done in the past. The young doctor had explained this as an effect of the illness, which was very rare. She was not to be released from his care until the disease was completely cured, otherwise it might pose a risk to the greater society. "Why me?" she thought. It seemed somehow special to her that she had a rare illness. She was chosen somehow. And why had the doctor called her Nympha? All the time her hands were working steadily up her slender legs, now saturated with an oily film. 'The scars were healing well,' she pondered, 'what kind of illness could give scars like that?' But she remembered having seen the wounds of a leper once, their image suddenly flashed before her eyes. But equally quickly the memory evaded her again.

Having worked the oil into her sides, she proceeded to fondle her fine buttocks. Kneeling on the bed with her legs apart, she curved her spine and relished the feeling of her hands kneading her bootilicious backside. The glow spread deeper into her body, invading her as she massaged the salve into her skin. She took more from the pot. The warmth of her skin caused her hands to become slick with the substance. Stroking the delicate skin on the inside of her legs, her hips twitched involuntarily as she relished the sensation. 'She had certainly never been able to put more than some cooking oil on her chafed lips, when she was younger.' The thought suddenly flashed through her mind, but equally quickly disappeared, crowded out by the satiated feeling of luxury that the salve and its fragrance was giving her.

She took more salve and caressed her full breasts. The glow in the lower part of her body and the tingling of her breasts became so intense that she felt a small shudder of fear creeping up on her. These feelings were nothing like she had ever experienced before. The salve was causing these waves of heat through her body. Perhaps this was the fever struggling back in the face of the cure. It was a strange, on the verge of painful, but nevertheless pleasurable sensation.

Her thoughts moved again to the book she had read. She knew what men and women do together, or so she thought. Her elder girlfriends had told her full-colour stories of their relationships, even though she was not quite ready to try it herself. Or rather, the right kind of person had not appeared in her life. Though goodness knows her imagination had run wild in romantic fantasies. But the fine detail exhibited in the book, the places to touch and the ways to touch them, those had not occurred to her. She had been a bit embarassed by their forthright presentation. It had disturbed her at first that the young doctor would give her such books to read. Was he to soil a virtuous woman's chastity by offering her lecture of matters best left uncontemplated? And her name, Nympha, was there some connection with the woodnymph in the story? Or was she grasping at straws here? 'But perhaps he means good by it, and it will serve to some purpose I cannot foresee yet.' She felt strangely compelled by the images the book presented to her and therefore contemplated them further, because they caused a fluttering in the pit of her stomach, like a calling or yearning. And so her thoughts returned to the titillating content of the story, distracted from any qualms about its context, its recent appearance in her life.

The woodnymph had been described as possessed of a great ecstacy once she had found a special pearl in a kind of secret garden. "Seek out the pearl in the secret garden." This pearl needed to be sought out and watered, in order to grow into a tree, the fruits of which gave feelings of intense well-being to the eater. She contemplated the implications of her newfound knowledge. Her hidden desire and the rush of the medicine had made her bold and daring. That was another side-effect of the sacred herb, though little did our heroine know. She had kept busy and the salve now covered almost all of her body, infusing her with active ingredients.

In the next moment, a realisation started to dawn on her. A firm association was formed in her mind, a link between the name the doctor had given her, the story she had read and the feelings aroused in her by the medicine. 'I am Nympha! I am the woodnymph.' Nympha pondered the lustful little fantasy that had popped up in her mind. If she was Nympha, then she must look for the treasure near the lake. She knew that special spot between her legs that had given her some comfort on cold nights in a windriddled farmhouse. The medicine made her feel all warm inside, her surroundings seemed unfocused and fuzzy. Her mind wandered in sensuous reverie, ever returning to the prospect of greater excitement. Perhaps she should put some of the salve on her 'pearl' as the book called it. The pearl was at the mouth of a well, from which one could later draw magic water. But that was as far as she had been able to decipher the text. For she had only become accustomed to letters since several days, or had it been weeks? She had lost track of the passage of time, how many times the little window showed sunlight, starlight or moonlight.

Tonight, the moon must be full, the light was so bright. Nympha looked up and saw that a small sliver of the moon could be seen through the window. It was shining directly into her cell. She sat down with her back resting on a white pillow, propped against the wooden headboard of the bed. She parted her legs, for it was glowing warm between them. The bed creaked and Nympha thought she heard a scuffle. Quickly, she pulled the sheets and blankets over herself and lay motionless for a while, listening if other noises could be heard. Nothing. Maybe it had been a nightly bird or bat passing by the window. However, the small inkling of fear she had felt could not be entirely allayed. "Why am I scared of nightly noises?" she thought. Perhaps the strange surroundings and the confinement of her cell. She was not used to such luxurious quarters and much leasure time. The food was much better than she was used to. Then why this feeling of apprehension?

But in the semi-darkness, other feelings warred inside her beating heart, besides the thrill of fear. The warmth of her body made her drowsy, but the feeling of a yearning, a hollow craving, could not be denied. And her own mind had furnished her with the idea of experimenting with the salve. Why not do it? "Rub it all over yourself," the doctor had said. What harm could be done? She would not want the itchy rash to find a safe haven by having missed a spot. Besides, the heavy blanket was starting to stifle her.

So after a little while, she folded back the sheets and sat up. She propped herself up with a pillow and sat again with parted legs, leaning down to look. There was a wisp of hair just above the precipice at the bottom of her stomach. Beyond this, spread a folding landscape of gentle hills, with a valley between them. The pearl could be found beyond the forest, at the entrance to the valley, hidden in a hollow. At least, that had been the place where the warrior had chanced upon the nymph. The pearl had to be moistened with water from the well to bring out its true lustre. But perhaps the salve would do the same trick. She reached for the pot of salve and plunged her fingers into it, until they were covered with the sticky substance. Then she took a deep breath and applied the cure between her legs.

***

Meanwhile, in the corridor, Alexander watched from the shadows. It was indeed his foot that had made the scuffle as he had shifted to a more comforable position for long-term espionage. He had feared her getting under the blankets might be the end, but he knew the salve contained a stimulant that would keep her awake. She would lie restless and sleepless until fatigue would overcome her. He had decided upon this measure to weaken her will, that he had found cautious and guarded towards him. He wanted to help her, but could only do so if she became his instrument, at least for a time.

But what happened next caught even himself unawares, despite his inner desires and the measures he had taken to ensure their gratification. She threw back the covers, presumably because of her overheated condition. Her full beauty was suddenly revealed in the direct moonlight. She looked positively like a goddess as she sat up, her loose long hair allowing the moonlight to fall through their curls. Her skin was shiny with oil, and appeared so pale that it seemed almost translucent. The healthy diet had obviously worked wonders for her hair. A few locks tumbled teasingly down her milky bosom. He saw her bowing her head, as if in prayer, after which she carefully and purposefully parted her legs, took the ointment and applied it to her most private spot.

The active ingredients in the salve had been calculated for normal skin exposure, far too strong to be directly applied to such delicate and permeable tissue. This was his first mental reaction. But his heart was racing and a throbbing feeling rising in his crotch. This mistake was going to be far better than he had planned. Its observation would afford an insight into how far control could be achieved over the subject. But with added side benefits, was the leery thought that jumped him like a wolf and caused his throbbing erection to twitch involuntarily.

***

Nympha felt like a passive witness to the entire scene in front of her eyes. She could see her fingers groping in the folds of her pussy, spreading the folds apart to reach the white-hot bud that calls for more and mercy simultaneously. Her right arm leant on the inside of her thighs, spreading her legs apart. Her left leg was propped up into the air, exposing herself in the direction of the doorway. But the bliss and ecstacy she was in blurred any feature beyond the immediate hunger, the raw fire coursing through her veins. Every time a finger from her probing right hand brushes the pearl, a wave of feelings is unleashed, so big it carries her away entirely. But in the ebb and flow is a slowly building rhythm, towards a crescendo, a really big breaker. She sweep and swell of the current is building inside her. Her voice rings out in a stifled moan.