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Chapter 5 and 6 of Jucy and the Barbarian

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  • Herod Antipas
    Why doesn;t anyone want to read about Gwig and Jucy. Is it because she s fat? SHe can;t help it and she s a lovely girl. I m going to post this every few
    Message 1 of 5 , Dec 30, 2005
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      Why doesn;t anyone want to read about Gwig and Jucy. Is it because
      she's fat? SHe can;t help it and she's a lovely girl. I'm going to
      post this every few weeks until someone either tells me to stop
      because no one wants to read it, or somebody reads it. Come on, let
      me know what you think, huh?




      Chapter 5

      By Herod Antipas 2005

      "Stand and deliver!"

      It was the eighth day of the journey when disaster struck.
      The barbarian and the princess has dismounted to stretch their legs
      and were letting the horses graze in a meadow a short distance
      behind them. Gwig's sharp ears made out the sound of hoof beats
      behind them. When he turned to look he also heard men on horseback
      coming from around a bend in the road in front of them. The party
      of brigands, almost all mounted, numbered about twelve or thirteen.
      Their apparent leader was a thin scraggly-looking fellow with buck
      teeth, and it was he who had made this demand. A bandit on foot
      held the reins of his own horse, and also those of Buttercup and
      Gwig's smaller roan. Gwig said nothing, and Jucunda, for once, held
      her tongue.

      "You heard me, musclehead! Deliver your goods, for you
      stand at the mercy of Barzac, reaver of treasures and looser of
      souls! These are my men, Barzac's raiders, and I am Barzac
      himself." Gwig looked from one man to the next as if mentally
      trying their mettle, and with a lack of excitement which the
      brigands found unnerving.

      "I am Gwig." He said at last, standing his ground. In the
      silence which followed Jucunda coughed several times into her hand,
      and finally shot him a look of annoyance, offended that he had
      failed to introduce her as well. Gwig turned to her in
      disbelief. "Hold your tongue and let me handle this," He said in a
      stage whisper, through gritted teeth.

      "O ho Barbarian! Can't control thy woman?" Barzac
      taunted. "But gentlemen, we forget our manners," he said to the
      company at large, "Yon lardbiscuit wishes to speak." Jucunda
      elbowed Gwig aside and took a few steps closer to the brigand chief.

      "Thank you," she began, "it seems that…" The insult had hit
      home. "Lardbiscuit?! Thou bull's pizzle! Only come closer and
      I'll slap off thy beard! You who dare to talk to me this way, I'll
      have you know I am eep!" Gwig, in a desperate bid to recapture the
      floor and prevent the princess from revealing her identity had
      reached over and given her a vigorous pinch with his thumb and
      forefinger, provoking gales of raucous laughter from the raiders.

      "Well done Master Barbarian!" roared Barzac "But I see your
      plumpkin is a spirited lass. I'll tell you what. Let us take her
      off into the meadow and sample her charms and you may keep your
      horses and baggage. Why she look to be enough girl to satisfy us
      six at a time!" Jucunda blanched with real fear at this, while Gwig
      stepped firmly between her and Barzac. With his back to the woods
      he was still surrounded by robbers on horseback on the other three
      sides.

      "You already have our horses and baggage. Count yourself
      lucky and be gone." He stood stock still.

      "Stand aside, barbarian, or my men and I may decide to send
      you early to Hell."

      "Mayhap you could accomplish that," Gwig replied, looking
      each man in the eye, "but answer me this: Which five of you will be
      accompanying me on the trip?" With one single motion and an icy
      noise, his sword slid out of the scabbard on his back. He held the
      two-handed blade with one hand for a moment, sinews standing out
      like cords on his arm and then adopted a two-handed fihting stance,
      one foot forward, arms cocked back to swing. The blade was so long
      that it eliminated the horsemen's greater reach and it looked heavy
      enough to cleave through a horse's forelimb, meat and bone.
      Barzac's men looked uncertainly at their leader.

      "Huh." Barzac said at last, my physician has been telling me
      that I need to cut down on pork in any case. Come men." And with
      that, he turned his horse around and started walking it back the way
      he had came. The man on foot led the travelers' horses away and
      some of them caused their horses to walk backwards so that they
      could keep an eye on Gwig and his sword, which remained at the
      ready, his arm only beginning to tremble from the heft of it when
      they were almost out of sight. At last he let it drop, wiped his
      brow with a rag and said

      "Aye, looser of souls indeed, but twere lucky there was not
      a bow among them, or I'd have been feathered for sure." It was all
      too much for Jucunda to bear and she began to pummel him with
      surprising strength about his chest and shoulders.

      "Lucky?!" the girl screamed, and let loose a stream of
      invective containing a number of words that most princesses probably
      did not know. "They have taken Buttercup! And our expense money!
      And all of my garments!" She paused with the realization of further
      losses "And my beautiful wedding dress, for which it was so hard to
      find a seamstress (though it truth it did chafe a bit)! And my
      dowry!" She howled as she slapped him.

      "Nay, princess, your dowry is here in my survival pack," he
      said brightly, gesturing to his back, along with a small tent, some
      dried venison, and the first third of my pay."

      "Your pay?!" she exploded, "I call it forfeit, for you have
      done not a thing to earn it! Letting them call me "ladbiscuit"
      and "plumpkin" and..and.." the outrage was almost too great to put
      into words, "you pinched me! Tweaked like some village slattern!"
      She aimed an especially viscous kick at his right shin, but her
      slippered foot bounced off his hard leather riding boot.

      "Jucunda" he said in a commanding tone, taking hold of her
      arms. It was the first time he had used her given name. "Primus: I
      would hardly call offering to die to save thine honor a nothing, but
      as far as my pay being forfeit, `tis true, for without our expense
      money we must spend it to survive. Secundus: had I been alone,
      mayhaps I would have fought thirteen brigands to the death for the
      sheer sport of it, but I had your welfare to think of. Had I gone
      down swinging, `twould have left one chubby princess against seven
      or eight angry highwaymen. Tertius: that pinch were a stroke of
      desperation to prevent you spending your wedding day being held for
      ransom in a bandit camp eight days ride from home. We crossed the
      border of your father's kingdom yesterday in case it scaped your
      notice.!" She gingerly rubbed the area in question.

      "I'll grant you that last point, but I shall be black and
      blue for a week. What are we to do now?" Gwig smiled at her
      recovery of her composure.

      "We shall survive and I shall see you wed. But we shall be
      on a tightened budget and for now we must perforce walk." Jucunda
      smoothed the font of his tunic, rumpled from her blows, and stepped
      away.

      "Very well then. And since we are about to become even more
      intimate traveling companions than previously, you may as well call
      me by the pet name by which I am known to my family and friends."

      "And what is that?"

      "Jucy." He gave her a toothy grin

      "Well then, Jucy, let us be off for Ghaspar."

      "A moment, Gwig." She said, sitting down on a large boulder
      and smoothing out her dress. "I shall be much better able to walk
      after I have had a good cry." And with that, she put her face in her
      hands and sobbed like a child.


      Chapter 6

      By Herod Antipas 2005

      The barbarian and the princess had been walking for several
      hours and the sun was directly overhead. For all that had happened,
      Gwig mused, she was turning out to be more of a boon traveling
      companion than he had expected. It was a shame he was going to have
      to spend part of his pay, but perhaps the sultan would make good the
      loss when he heard the story. The thought of this awakened an
      unwelcome pang at the thought of having to hand her over at the end
      of the trip. He smiled to himself as he thought about the way she
      had face down the bandit chief. She certainly hadn't folded in on
      herself that time. She had also much impressed him with how well
      she dealt with adversity, after the initial tempest of course. Here
      she was, sans horse, sans money, and sans wedding dress walking
      steadily down the road with him, or maube not. The princess had
      recently slowed and was beginning to sniffle.

      "What ho Jucy?" he asked "not mourning your trousseau again?"

      "No, it's not that," she said, wiping away a tear, "it's
      just that this is the longest I have walked in years. I was trying
      to be brave and not complain, but my thighs are well-nigh raw from
      rubbing together." Her voice broke.

      "Ah, it is my fault." He replied. "I should have thought."
      He was beginning to open his pack. "'Tis a common problem, not only
      with plump young ladies, but with some of the more heavy-thewed
      members of my cohort when I fought for the Grand Duchy of Leomond,
      where the fighters wear leathern kilts into battle. I will
      prescribe the Leomondian cure for you." He handed her a small
      bottle and two rolls of fabric, intended for use as bandages. "Do
      but wrap one bandage around the thickest part of each member and
      they will save you from further unnecessary friction. Tonight,
      anoint yourself with this liniment and you shall feel much better by
      morrow." She took the articles gratefully.

      "Turn your back, close your eyes, and cover your head with
      your cloak. I am to sore to venture even a few feet into the
      woods." While Gwig held this ridiculous position, she hiked up her
      dress and carefully wrapped each inflamed thigh with the soft
      fabric, securing it in place with two pins from her hair, which
      caused her scarlet tresses to fall down over her shoulders. "That
      does it. Now let us check the results." She took a few
      experimental steps, amused at the "whip-whip" noise she now made as
      she walked. "'Tis much improved already. I shall soon be ready to
      serve as a pikeman in the Grand Duchy of Leomond, although I hope it
      should not require me to sneak up on anybody."

      They walked a bit farther, Jucunda "whip-whipping" along
      when she asked a question in a small voice.

      "Gwig, tell me truly. Do you think me a lardbiscuit, as the
      brigand chieftain said?"

      "I think you a clever, spirited, and winsome girl. The fact
      that there is more of you than most women, be just an added bonus."
      He said this almost without thinking, then kept his eyes straight
      ahead so that neither saw the other one blush.

      "You know Gwig I was more angered when he called
      me "Plumpkin", for my father used to call me that as a term of love
      until my mother made him stop. We were not supposed to discuss my
      weight in her presence. My sisters would follow this rule and then
      serve me up double insults when we got back to the dormitory."

      "That sounds hard."

      "Nay not that hard. It is only as sisters will do.
      Dorcas's pimples, and Menolly's gap teeth were not spared. But we
      were a close family. Even my older sister Romna, who ran off with a
      troubadour was welcome back at the palace on feast days, albeit she
      had to sit at the servant's table. My father is a tenderhearted
      man, though he thinks no one knows it." Feeling homesick at this,
      she took Gwig's hand for a moment of comfort, then burst out
      laughing.

      "What, does our situation now strike you as funny, or does
      the Leomondian cure tickle?"

      "I just remembered a funny habit of Buttercup's when she has
      an unfamiliar rider. The first time that Barzac tries to ride her,
      she will wait about a quarter of an hour and then scrape him off
      under the first roof or low-lying tree limb she comes across. A new
      stablehand tried to steal her once and he was found a mile down the
      road with a broken ankle."

      "That's a pity then that we are here and he is there" Gwig
      grinned, "For I would dearly have liked to see that!"

      ***
      At their new, slower pace, the would not be reaching the
      next inn by nightfall, so Gwig looked around for a likely spot and
      finally picked an uphill clearing which afforded them a view of the
      road. This close to the Furiant Mountains, the air was already
      getting crisp at night. Gwig made a cheery fire and wrapped himself
      in his traveling cloak while Jucunda took the tent and their one
      remaining blanket. While Gwig reclined against a tree, prodding the
      fire with a long stick, Jucy was in the tent, applying the liniment
      he had given her.

      "Ugh!" she said, wrinkling her nose, "You neglected to tell
      me that this stuff smells like the breath of a diseased firedrake!"

      "Had I told you you would never have put it on. Rub in in
      well and the aroma will fade."

      She crawled out of the tent on her hands and knees, her
      generous belly almost scraping the ground. She considered the
      effort of standing up to walk the few feet to where Gwig was resting
      and instead crawled the rest of the way like a tot
      playing "horsie." She rolled over into a sitting position, legs
      apart, and began fanning her inner thoghs with the hem of her gown,
      to dissipate the fumes from the liniment. It was the original cream
      colored dress she had worn on the day of their departure, now
      filthy. Gwig watched her with a grin. She caught him and blushed,
      but also smiled.

      "Not much left of my royal decorum, is there Sir Gwig?"

      "Nay, it seems to me you show yourself a true princess by
      not going to pieces at the first sign of trouble. Every royal
      family is descended from some stalwart fellow bold enough to carve
      out a kingdom or wrest one away. But I have been thinking. Without
      our frippery, it may be best that we adopt a new guise for the
      nonce. I will be a soldier returning from the Northern wars. I am
      going to Ghaspar to book passage on a Southbound ship."

      "Then am I to be your…"

      "Sister."

      "So I am receiving a demotion." She said teasingly.

      "Aye and to keep up appearance, there will be no more
      ordering me about in public."

      "Then I shall have to order you about twice as much in
      private to catch up" she chuckled. They sat for a few minutes, just
      listening to the crackle of the fire. Gwig reached inside his pack
      and pulled out a stoppered flask.

      "That survival pack of yours appears bottomless. What is
      that? Another foul-smelling liniment?"

      "Much better than that" he said, putting the stopper out
      with his teeth, "This is Artabarian brandy. "Tis strong, so take
      only small sips." They passed the bottle back an forth and had
      drank off half of the sweet golden fiery stuff before Gwig replaced
      the cork and put the bottle away in his pack. With only a few
      strips of smoked venison in her stomach, the liquor was going to
      Jucunda's head, and causing her to lose some of her inhibitions.

      "Since there be no one here but thee and me," she
      began, "help me, Brother Gwig, for I need a man's point of view."

      "I'll do my best, Jucy my little sister."

      "Hast been with a large number of women? Surely it must be
      so, what with all your battle, and armies, and travels."

      "Perhaps not so many as you think, but aye, a few."

      "Any of my…avoirdupois?"

      "Close to't" he murmured, thinking of a lady tavern owner in
      Polidor and a young widow on a caravan he once guarded.

      "Did it present any particular, er challenges?" she asked,
      somewhat flustered.

      "Nay, not if the man be put together like most and the woman
      be of reasonable agility. But in the even of problems, there is one
      arrangement said never to fail. "Tis said the Andamar Islanders use
      it exclusively. The men there prefer a woman with a very broad
      fundament and the women take great pains to cultivate one. When an
      islander husband is due to return from a boar hunt, his wife will
      retire to their marital bed and arrange herself thusly, so that his
      favorite part shall be the first thing he sees when he comes through
      the door. She then settles in for a long wait." Jucunda let out a
      giggle and pushed him playfully

      "That was never a true story!"

      "Wholly true," he said with mock seriousness, "Some Andamar
      women have been known to hold the position for three or four days,
      with female relatives bringing them food."

      "Well, I certainly hope the Sultan will not oft go boar
      hunting, for it sounds like it would be hard on the knees."

      Gwig fell silent again. The brandy was getting to him as
      well and the conversation had been straying into bawdy territory.
      He wondered what her parents would think if they could see this,
      although she clearly knew how all the parts went together. Despite
      Gwig's misgiving, Jucunda was ready to continue.

      "Hast any other advice then, as to how I can keep the Sultan
      happy in the manner of husbands and wives?" He thought for a long
      time of how to put matters more delicately and finally came up with
      the following analogy.

      "Jucy," he began, "what is your favorite thing to eat?"

      "Roast duck with cherry sauce, but `tis a cruel question to
      ask, when I've had nothing but a nibble of smoked venison and sit
      here, wasting away to nothing." For emphasis she playfully lifted
      her belly with both hands and then let it drop back into her lap.

      "Suppose then that you were about to be served roast duck
      with cherry sauce, and could smell it from the kitchen, then see the
      dish brought in, then have it set before you, then watch it be
      carved. When you finally got to eat it would not the dish be even
      more savory for the waiting?" She had a faraway look in her eyes.

      "Yessss" she moaned, then snapped back to the
      present. "What has all that to do with pleasing my Sultan?"

      "You see, Jucy," continued Gwig, "In the doings of husbands
      and wives, the man experiences a certain "reward," which he greatly
      relishes. He is like a pig with an apple. An his wife let him, he
      will go straight to his "reward" in a metter of seconds. But if she
      be skillfull, she will draw out the meal, serving other dishes,
      making him wait for the roast duck with cherry sauce until he can
      stand it no longer and then, dinner is served!" Jucunda looked at
      him as if he had grown a second head.

      "So sex is like serving roast duck with cherry sauce to a
      pig with an apple?"

      "Exactly! He might even have a second helping. Moreover,
      the woman also experiences a "reward" and if he be a considerate
      husband he will see his wife is served before eating all of the
      roast duck with cherry sauce himself. Now does that clear things
      up?" Jucy burst out laughing, and continued, in full-throated,
      musical tones until tears streamed down her face and every part of
      her shook. This went on for a long time while Gwig sat there
      feeling like a pillock, his ears and face burning. Every time she
      seemed about to stop she erupted into fresh peals until she spent
      herself.

      "Oh…" she gasped "that was magnificent. She took his hand
      by way of reconciliation. "I'm sorry I led you along, but you must
      think me a right prat. Gwig, I have twelve older sisters, all of
      them now married. I have known about "rewards" for simply ages.
      Certes I am a virgin, but what made you think I have never
      been "rewarded?"

      "But then how?, I mean, with whom…" he sputtered

      "Who said I was with anyone at all?" When it got hot, a
      groom of ours, with black hair, used to pitch hay with his shirt
      off, and like clockwork my sister Dorcas used to keep the whole
      dormitory awake on account of the creakiness of her bed frame. We
      were all of us acquainted with the "little man in the boat."

      With that, she rolled back onto her hands and knees and
      crawled back to the tent, giving him a final view reminiscent of an
      Andamar islander's homecoming.

      "I know what you are thinking," she called back to him
      through the tent flap, "I can SO reach it!"
    • Yvette
      No Herod, it is not because Juicy is fat. I like Juicy, it s just been a truly busy month for me. I only get a few minutes on the computer to read the messages
      Message 2 of 5 , Dec 30, 2005
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        No Herod, it is not because Juicy is fat. I like Juicy, it's just
        been a truly busy month for me. I only get a few minutes on the
        computer to read the messages quickly and respond. I will try to
        read today. :-)


        --- In fantasyfictiondungeon@yahoogroups.com, "Herod Antipas"
        <antippas@h...> wrote:
        >
        > Why doesn;t anyone want to read about Gwig and Jucy. Is it
        because
        > she's fat? SHe can;t help it and she's a lovely girl. I'm going
        to
        > post this every few weeks until someone either tells me to stop
        > because no one wants to read it, or somebody reads it. Come on,
        let
        > me know what you think, huh?
        >
        >
        >
        >
        > Chapter 5
        >
        > By Herod Antipas 2005
        >
        > "Stand and deliver!"
        >
        > It was the eighth day of the journey when disaster struck.
        > The barbarian and the princess has dismounted to stretch their legs
        > and were letting the horses graze in a meadow a short distance
        > behind them. Gwig's sharp ears made out the sound of hoof beats
        > behind them. When he turned to look he also heard men on horseback
        > coming from around a bend in the road in front of them. The party
        > of brigands, almost all mounted, numbered about twelve or thirteen.
        > Their apparent leader was a thin scraggly-looking fellow with buck
        > teeth, and it was he who had made this demand. A bandit on foot
        > held the reins of his own horse, and also those of Buttercup and
        > Gwig's smaller roan. Gwig said nothing, and Jucunda, for once, held
        > her tongue.
        >
        > "You heard me, musclehead! Deliver your goods, for you
        > stand at the mercy of Barzac, reaver of treasures and looser of
        > souls! These are my men, Barzac's raiders, and I am Barzac
        > himself." Gwig looked from one man to the next as if mentally
        > trying their mettle, and with a lack of excitement which the
        > brigands found unnerving.
        >
        > "I am Gwig." He said at last, standing his ground. In the
        > silence which followed Jucunda coughed several times into her hand,
        > and finally shot him a look of annoyance, offended that he had
        > failed to introduce her as well. Gwig turned to her in
        > disbelief. "Hold your tongue and let me handle this," He said in a
        > stage whisper, through gritted teeth.
        >
        > "O ho Barbarian! Can't control thy woman?" Barzac
        > taunted. "But gentlemen, we forget our manners," he said to the
        > company at large, "Yon lardbiscuit wishes to speak." Jucunda
        > elbowed Gwig aside and took a few steps closer to the brigand
        chief.
        >
        > "Thank you," she began, "it seems that…" The insult had hit
        > home. "Lardbiscuit?! Thou bull's pizzle! Only come closer and
        > I'll slap off thy beard! You who dare to talk to me this way, I'll
        > have you know I am eep!" Gwig, in a desperate bid to recapture the
        > floor and prevent the princess from revealing her identity had
        > reached over and given her a vigorous pinch with his thumb and
        > forefinger, provoking gales of raucous laughter from the raiders.
        >
        > "Well done Master Barbarian!" roared Barzac "But I see your
        > plumpkin is a spirited lass. I'll tell you what. Let us take her
        > off into the meadow and sample her charms and you may keep your
        > horses and baggage. Why she look to be enough girl to satisfy us
        > six at a time!" Jucunda blanched with real fear at this, while Gwig
        > stepped firmly between her and Barzac. With his back to the woods
        > he was still surrounded by robbers on horseback on the other three
        > sides.
        >
        > "You already have our horses and baggage. Count yourself
        > lucky and be gone." He stood stock still.
        >
        > "Stand aside, barbarian, or my men and I may decide to send
        > you early to Hell."
        >
        > "Mayhap you could accomplish that," Gwig replied, looking
        > each man in the eye, "but answer me this: Which five of you will be
        > accompanying me on the trip?" With one single motion and an icy
        > noise, his sword slid out of the scabbard on his back. He held the
        > two-handed blade with one hand for a moment, sinews standing out
        > like cords on his arm and then adopted a two-handed fihting stance,
        > one foot forward, arms cocked back to swing. The blade was so long
        > that it eliminated the horsemen's greater reach and it looked heavy
        > enough to cleave through a horse's forelimb, meat and bone.
        > Barzac's men looked uncertainly at their leader.
        >
        > "Huh." Barzac said at last, my physician has been telling me
        > that I need to cut down on pork in any case. Come men." And with
        > that, he turned his horse around and started walking it back the
        way
        > he had came. The man on foot led the travelers' horses away and
        > some of them caused their horses to walk backwards so that they
        > could keep an eye on Gwig and his sword, which remained at the
        > ready, his arm only beginning to tremble from the heft of it when
        > they were almost out of sight. At last he let it drop, wiped his
        > brow with a rag and said
        >
        > "Aye, looser of souls indeed, but twere lucky there was not
        > a bow among them, or I'd have been feathered for sure." It was all
        > too much for Jucunda to bear and she began to pummel him with
        > surprising strength about his chest and shoulders.
        >
        > "Lucky?!" the girl screamed, and let loose a stream of
        > invective containing a number of words that most princesses
        probably
        > did not know. "They have taken Buttercup! And our expense money!
        > And all of my garments!" She paused with the realization of further
        > losses "And my beautiful wedding dress, for which it was so hard to
        > find a seamstress (though it truth it did chafe a bit)! And my
        > dowry!" She howled as she slapped him.
        >
        > "Nay, princess, your dowry is here in my survival pack," he
        > said brightly, gesturing to his back, along with a small tent, some
        > dried venison, and the first third of my pay."
        >
        > "Your pay?!" she exploded, "I call it forfeit, for you have
        > done not a thing to earn it! Letting them call me "ladbiscuit"
        > and "plumpkin" and..and.." the outrage was almost too great to put
        > into words, "you pinched me! Tweaked like some village slattern!"
        > She aimed an especially viscous kick at his right shin, but her
        > slippered foot bounced off his hard leather riding boot.
        >
        > "Jucunda" he said in a commanding tone, taking hold of her
        > arms. It was the first time he had used her given name. "Primus: I
        > would hardly call offering to die to save thine honor a nothing,
        but
        > as far as my pay being forfeit, `tis true, for without our expense
        > money we must spend it to survive. Secundus: had I been alone,
        > mayhaps I would have fought thirteen brigands to the death for the
        > sheer sport of it, but I had your welfare to think of. Had I gone
        > down swinging, `twould have left one chubby princess against seven
        > or eight angry highwaymen. Tertius: that pinch were a stroke of
        > desperation to prevent you spending your wedding day being held for
        > ransom in a bandit camp eight days ride from home. We crossed the
        > border of your father's kingdom yesterday in case it scaped your
        > notice.!" She gingerly rubbed the area in question.
        >
        > "I'll grant you that last point, but I shall be black and
        > blue for a week. What are we to do now?" Gwig smiled at her
        > recovery of her composure.
        >
        > "We shall survive and I shall see you wed. But we shall be
        > on a tightened budget and for now we must perforce walk." Jucunda
        > smoothed the font of his tunic, rumpled from her blows, and stepped
        > away.
        >
        > "Very well then. And since we are about to become even more
        > intimate traveling companions than previously, you may as well call
        > me by the pet name by which I am known to my family and friends."
        >
        > "And what is that?"
        >
        > "Jucy." He gave her a toothy grin
        >
        > "Well then, Jucy, let us be off for Ghaspar."
        >
        > "A moment, Gwig." She said, sitting down on a large boulder
        > and smoothing out her dress. "I shall be much better able to walk
        > after I have had a good cry." And with that, she put her face in
        her
        > hands and sobbed like a child.
        >
        >
        > Chapter 6
        >
        > By Herod Antipas 2005
        >
        > The barbarian and the princess had been walking for several
        > hours and the sun was directly overhead. For all that had happened,
        > Gwig mused, she was turning out to be more of a boon traveling
        > companion than he had expected. It was a shame he was going to have
        > to spend part of his pay, but perhaps the sultan would make good
        the
        > loss when he heard the story. The thought of this awakened an
        > unwelcome pang at the thought of having to hand her over at the end
        > of the trip. He smiled to himself as he thought about the way she
        > had face down the bandit chief. She certainly hadn't folded in on
        > herself that time. She had also much impressed him with how well
        > she dealt with adversity, after the initial tempest of course. Here
        > she was, sans horse, sans money, and sans wedding dress walking
        > steadily down the road with him, or maube not. The princess had
        > recently slowed and was beginning to sniffle.
        >
        > "What ho Jucy?" he asked "not mourning your trousseau again?"
        >
        > "No, it's not that," she said, wiping away a tear, "it's
        > just that this is the longest I have walked in years. I was trying
        > to be brave and not complain, but my thighs are well-nigh raw from
        > rubbing together." Her voice broke.
        >
        > "Ah, it is my fault." He replied. "I should have thought."
        > He was beginning to open his pack. "'Tis a common problem, not only
        > with plump young ladies, but with some of the more heavy-thewed
        > members of my cohort when I fought for the Grand Duchy of Leomond,
        > where the fighters wear leathern kilts into battle. I will
        > prescribe the Leomondian cure for you." He handed her a small
        > bottle and two rolls of fabric, intended for use as bandages. "Do
        > but wrap one bandage around the thickest part of each member and
        > they will save you from further unnecessary friction. Tonight,
        > anoint yourself with this liniment and you shall feel much better
        by
        > morrow." She took the articles gratefully.
        >
        > "Turn your back, close your eyes, and cover your head with
        > your cloak. I am to sore to venture even a few feet into the
        > woods." While Gwig held this ridiculous position, she hiked up her
        > dress and carefully wrapped each inflamed thigh with the soft
        > fabric, securing it in place with two pins from her hair, which
        > caused her scarlet tresses to fall down over her shoulders. "That
        > does it. Now let us check the results." She took a few
        > experimental steps, amused at the "whip-whip" noise she now made as
        > she walked. "'Tis much improved already. I shall soon be ready to
        > serve as a pikeman in the Grand Duchy of Leomond, although I hope
        it
        > should not require me to sneak up on anybody."
        >
        > They walked a bit farther, Jucunda "whip-whipping" along
        > when she asked a question in a small voice.
        >
        > "Gwig, tell me truly. Do you think me a lardbiscuit, as the
        > brigand chieftain said?"
        >
        > "I think you a clever, spirited, and winsome girl. The fact
        > that there is more of you than most women, be just an added bonus."
        > He said this almost without thinking, then kept his eyes straight
        > ahead so that neither saw the other one blush.
        >
        > "You know Gwig I was more angered when he called
        > me "Plumpkin", for my father used to call me that as a term of love
        > until my mother made him stop. We were not supposed to discuss my
        > weight in her presence. My sisters would follow this rule and then
        > serve me up double insults when we got back to the dormitory."
        >
        > "That sounds hard."
        >
        > "Nay not that hard. It is only as sisters will do.
        > Dorcas's pimples, and Menolly's gap teeth were not spared. But we
        > were a close family. Even my older sister Romna, who ran off with a
        > troubadour was welcome back at the palace on feast days, albeit she
        > had to sit at the servant's table. My father is a tenderhearted
        > man, though he thinks no one knows it." Feeling homesick at this,
        > she took Gwig's hand for a moment of comfort, then burst out
        > laughing.
        >
        > "What, does our situation now strike you as funny, or does
        > the Leomondian cure tickle?"
        >
        > "I just remembered a funny habit of Buttercup's when she has
        > an unfamiliar rider. The first time that Barzac tries to ride her,
        > she will wait about a quarter of an hour and then scrape him off
        > under the first roof or low-lying tree limb she comes across. A new
        > stablehand tried to steal her once and he was found a mile down the
        > road with a broken ankle."
        >
        > "That's a pity then that we are here and he is there" Gwig
        > grinned, "For I would dearly have liked to see that!"
        >
        > ***
        > At their new, slower pace, the would not be reaching the
        > next inn by nightfall, so Gwig looked around for a likely spot and
        > finally picked an uphill clearing which afforded them a view of the
        > road. This close to the Furiant Mountains, the air was already
        > getting crisp at night. Gwig made a cheery fire and wrapped himself
        > in his traveling cloak while Jucunda took the tent and their one
        > remaining blanket. While Gwig reclined against a tree, prodding the
        > fire with a long stick, Jucy was in the tent, applying the liniment
        > he had given her.
        >
        > "Ugh!" she said, wrinkling her nose, "You neglected to tell
        > me that this stuff smells like the breath of a diseased firedrake!"
        >
        > "Had I told you you would never have put it on. Rub in in
        > well and the aroma will fade."
        >
        > She crawled out of the tent on her hands and knees, her
        > generous belly almost scraping the ground. She considered the
        > effort of standing up to walk the few feet to where Gwig was
        resting
        > and instead crawled the rest of the way like a tot
        > playing "horsie." She rolled over into a sitting position, legs
        > apart, and began fanning her inner thoghs with the hem of her gown,
        > to dissipate the fumes from the liniment. It was the original cream
        > colored dress she had worn on the day of their departure, now
        > filthy. Gwig watched her with a grin. She caught him and blushed,
        > but also smiled.
        >
        > "Not much left of my royal decorum, is there Sir Gwig?"
        >
        > "Nay, it seems to me you show yourself a true princess by
        > not going to pieces at the first sign of trouble. Every royal
        > family is descended from some stalwart fellow bold enough to carve
        > out a kingdom or wrest one away. But I have been thinking. Without
        > our frippery, it may be best that we adopt a new guise for the
        > nonce. I will be a soldier returning from the Northern wars. I am
        > going to Ghaspar to book passage on a Southbound ship."
        >
        > "Then am I to be your…"
        >
        > "Sister."
        >
        > "So I am receiving a demotion." She said teasingly.
        >
        > "Aye and to keep up appearance, there will be no more
        > ordering me about in public."
        >
        > "Then I shall have to order you about twice as much in
        > private to catch up" she chuckled. They sat for a few minutes, just
        > listening to the crackle of the fire. Gwig reached inside his pack
        > and pulled out a stoppered flask.
        >
        > "That survival pack of yours appears bottomless. What is
        > that? Another foul-smelling liniment?"
        >
        > "Much better than that" he said, putting the stopper out
        > with his teeth, "This is Artabarian brandy. "Tis strong, so take
        > only small sips." They passed the bottle back an forth and had
        > drank off half of the sweet golden fiery stuff before Gwig replaced
        > the cork and put the bottle away in his pack. With only a few
        > strips of smoked venison in her stomach, the liquor was going to
        > Jucunda's head, and causing her to lose some of her inhibitions.
        >
        > "Since there be no one here but thee and me," she
        > began, "help me, Brother Gwig, for I need a man's point of view."
        >
        > "I'll do my best, Jucy my little sister."
        >
        > "Hast been with a large number of women? Surely it must be
        > so, what with all your battle, and armies, and travels."
        >
        > "Perhaps not so many as you think, but aye, a few."
        >
        > "Any of my…avoirdupois?"
        >
        > "Close to't" he murmured, thinking of a lady tavern owner in
        > Polidor and a young widow on a caravan he once guarded.
        >
        > "Did it present any particular, er challenges?" she asked,
        > somewhat flustered.
        >
        > "Nay, not if the man be put together like most and the woman
        > be of reasonable agility. But in the even of problems, there is one
        > arrangement said never to fail. "Tis said the Andamar Islanders use
        > it exclusively. The men there prefer a woman with a very broad
        > fundament and the women take great pains to cultivate one. When an
        > islander husband is due to return from a boar hunt, his wife will
        > retire to their marital bed and arrange herself thusly, so that his
        > favorite part shall be the first thing he sees when he comes
        through
        > the door. She then settles in for a long wait." Jucunda let out a
        > giggle and pushed him playfully
        >
        > "That was never a true story!"
        >
        > "Wholly true," he said with mock seriousness, "Some Andamar
        > women have been known to hold the position for three or four days,
        > with female relatives bringing them food."
        >
        > "Well, I certainly hope the Sultan will not oft go boar
        > hunting, for it sounds like it would be hard on the knees."
        >
        > Gwig fell silent again. The brandy was getting to him as
        > well and the conversation had been straying into bawdy territory.
        > He wondered what her parents would think if they could see this,
        > although she clearly knew how all the parts went together. Despite
        > Gwig's misgiving, Jucunda was ready to continue.
        >
        > "Hast any other advice then, as to how I can keep the Sultan
        > happy in the manner of husbands and wives?" He thought for a long
        > time of how to put matters more delicately and finally came up with
        > the following analogy.
        >
        > "Jucy," he began, "what is your favorite thing to eat?"
        >
        > "Roast duck with cherry sauce, but `tis a cruel question to
        > ask, when I've had nothing but a nibble of smoked venison and sit
        > here, wasting away to nothing." For emphasis she playfully lifted
        > her belly with both hands and then let it drop back into her lap.
        >
        > "Suppose then that you were about to be served roast duck
        > with cherry sauce, and could smell it from the kitchen, then see
        the
        > dish brought in, then have it set before you, then watch it be
        > carved. When you finally got to eat it would not the dish be even
        > more savory for the waiting?" She had a faraway look in her eyes.
        >
        > "Yessss" she moaned, then snapped back to the
        > present. "What has all that to do with pleasing my Sultan?"
        >
        > "You see, Jucy," continued Gwig, "In the doings of husbands
        > and wives, the man experiences a certain "reward," which he greatly
        > relishes. He is like a pig with an apple. An his wife let him, he
        > will go straight to his "reward" in a metter of seconds. But if she
        > be skillfull, she will draw out the meal, serving other dishes,
        > making him wait for the roast duck with cherry sauce until he can
        > stand it no longer and then, dinner is served!" Jucunda looked at
        > him as if he had grown a second head.
        >
        > "So sex is like serving roast duck with cherry sauce to a
        > pig with an apple?"
        >
        > "Exactly! He might even have a second helping. Moreover,
        > the woman also experiences a "reward" and if he be a considerate
        > husband he will see his wife is served before eating all of the
        > roast duck with cherry sauce himself. Now does that clear things
        > up?" Jucy burst out laughing, and continued, in full-throated,
        > musical tones until tears streamed down her face and every part of
        > her shook. This went on for a long time while Gwig sat there
        > feeling like a pillock, his ears and face burning. Every time she
        > seemed about to stop she erupted into fresh peals until she spent
        > herself.
        >
        > "Oh…" she gasped "that was magnificent. She took his hand
        > by way of reconciliation. "I'm sorry I led you along, but you must
        > think me a right prat. Gwig, I have twelve older sisters, all of
        > them now married. I have known about "rewards" for simply ages.
        > Certes I am a virgin, but what made you think I have never
        > been "rewarded?"
        >
        > "But then how?, I mean, with whom…" he sputtered
        >
        > "Who said I was with anyone at all?" When it got hot, a
        > groom of ours, with black hair, used to pitch hay with his shirt
        > off, and like clockwork my sister Dorcas used to keep the whole
        > dormitory awake on account of the creakiness of her bed frame. We
        > were all of us acquainted with the "little man in the boat."
        >
        > With that, she rolled back onto her hands and knees and
        > crawled back to the tent, giving him a final view reminiscent of an
        > Andamar islander's homecoming.
        >
        > "I know what you are thinking," she called back to him
        > through the tent flap, "I can SO reach it!"
        >
      • avalmistress@aol.com
        I read it and I am waiting on #6, please :) you already know that I love it and want more!!!!! Christina ... From: Herod Antipas To:
        Message 3 of 5 , Dec 30, 2005
        • 0 Attachment
          I read it and I am waiting on #6, please :)
          you already know that I love it and want more!!!!!

          Christina

          -----Original Message-----
          From: Herod Antipas <antippas@...>
          To: fantasyfictiondungeon@yahoogroups.com
          Sent: Fri, 30 Dec 2005 16:51:04 -0000
          Subject: [Fantasy Fiction Dungeon] Chapter 5 and 6 of Jucy and the Barbarian


          Why doesn;t anyone want to read about Gwig and Jucy. Is it because
          she's fat? SHe can;t help it and she's a lovely girl. I'm going to
          post this every few weeks until someone either tells me to stop
          because no one wants to read it, or somebody reads it. Come on, let
          me know what you think, huh?




          Chapter 5

          By Herod Antipas 2005

          "Stand and deliver!"

          It was the eighth day of the journey when disaster struck.
          The barbarian and the princess has dismounted to stretch their legs
          and were letting the horses graze in a meadow a short distance
          behind them. Gwig's sharp ears made out the sound of hoof beats
          behind them. When he turned to look he also heard men on horseback
          coming from around a bend in the road in front of them. The party
          of brigands, almost all mounted, numbered about twelve or thirteen.
          Their apparent leader was a thin scraggly-looking fellow with buck
          teeth, and it was he who had made this demand. A bandit on foot
          held the reins of his own horse, and also those of Buttercup and
          Gwig's smaller roan. Gwig said nothing, and Jucunda, for once, held
          her tongue.

          "You heard me, musclehead! Deliver your goods, for you
          stand at the mercy of Barzac, reaver of treasures and looser of
          souls! These are my men, Barzac's raiders, and I am Barzac
          himself." Gwig looked from one man to the next as if mentally
          trying their mettle, and with a lack of excitement which the
          brigands found unnerving.

          "I am Gwig." He said at last, standing his ground. In the
          silence which followed Jucunda coughed several times into her hand,
          and finally shot him a look of annoyance, offended that he had
          failed to introduce her as well. Gwig turned to her in
          disbelief. "Hold your tongue and let me handle this," He said in a
          stage whisper, through gritted teeth.

          "O ho Barbarian! Can't control thy woman?" Barzac
          taunted. "But gentlemen, we forget our manners," he said to the
          company at large, "Yon lardbiscuit wishes to speak." Jucunda
          elbowed Gwig aside and took a few steps closer to the brigand chief.

          "Thank you," she began, "it seems that?" The insult had hit
          home. "Lardbiscuit?! Thou bull's pizzle! Only come closer and
          I'll slap off thy beard! You who dare to talk to me this way, I'll
          have you know I am eep!" Gwig, in a desperate bid to recapture the
          floor and prevent the princess from revealing her identity had
          reached over and given her a vigorous pinch with his thumb and
          forefinger, provoking gales of raucous laughter from the raiders.

          "Well done Master Barbarian!" roared Barzac "But I see your
          plumpkin is a spirited lass. I'll tell you what. Let us take her
          off into the meadow and sample her charms and you may keep your
          horses and baggage. Why she look to be enough girl to satisfy us
          six at a time!" Jucunda blanched with real fear at this, while Gwig
          stepped firmly between her and Barzac. With his back to the woods
          he was still surrounded by robbers on horseback on the other three
          sides.

          "You already have our horses and baggage. Count yourself
          lucky and be gone." He stood stock still.

          "Stand aside, barbarian, or my men and I may decide to send
          you early to Hell."

          "Mayhap you could accomplish that," Gwig replied, looking
          each man in the eye, "but answer me this: Which five of you will be
          accompanying me on the trip?" With one single motion and an icy
          noise, his sword slid out of the scabbard on his back. He held the
          two-handed blade with one hand for a moment, sinews standing out
          like cords on his arm and then adopted a two-handed fihting stance,
          one foot forward, arms cocked back to swing. The blade was so long
          that it eliminated the horsemen's greater reach and it looked heavy
          enough to cleave through a horse's forelimb, meat and bone.
          Barzac's men looked uncertainly at their leader.

          "Huh." Barzac said at last, my physician has been telling me
          that I need to cut down on pork in any case. Come men." And with
          that, he turned his horse around and started walking it back the way
          he had came. The man on foot led the travelers' horses away and
          some of them caused their horses to walk backwards so that they
          could keep an eye on Gwig and his sword, which remained at the
          ready, his arm only beginning to tremble from the heft of it when
          they were almost out of sight. At last he let it drop, wiped his
          brow with a rag and said

          "Aye, looser of souls indeed, but twere lucky there was not
          a bow among them, or I'd have been feathered for sure." It was all
          too much for Jucunda to bear and she began to pummel him with
          surprising strength about his chest and shoulders.

          "Lucky?!" the girl screamed, and let loose a stream of
          invective containing a number of words that most princesses probably
          did not know. "They have taken Buttercup! And our expense money!
          And all of my garments!" She paused with the realization of further
          losses "And my beautiful wedding dress, for which it was so hard to
          find a seamstress (though it truth it did chafe a bit)! And my
          dowry!" She howled as she slapped him.

          "Nay, princess, your dowry is here in my survival pack," he
          said brightly, gesturing to his back, along with a small tent, some
          dried venison, and the first third of my pay."

          "Your pay?!" she exploded, "I call it forfeit, for you have
          done not a thing to earn it! Letting them call me "ladbiscuit"
          and "plumpkin" and..and.." the outrage was almost too great to put
          into words, "you pinched me! Tweaked like some village slattern!"
          She aimed an especially viscous kick at his right shin, but her
          slippered foot bounced off his hard leather riding boot.

          "Jucunda" he said in a commanding tone, taking hold of her
          arms. It was the first time he had used her given name. "Primus: I
          would hardly call offering to die to save thine honor a nothing, but
          as far as my pay being forfeit, `tis true, for without our expense
          money we must spend it to survive. Secundus: had I been alone,
          mayhaps I would have fought thirteen brigands to the death for the
          sheer sport of it, but I had your welfare to think of. Had I gone
          down swinging, `twould have left one chubby princess against seven
          or eight angry highwaymen. Tertius: that pinch were a stroke of
          desperation to prevent you spending your wedding day being held for
          ransom in a bandit camp eight days ride from home. We crossed the
          border of your father's kingdom yesterday in case it scaped your
          notice.!" She gingerly rubbed the area in question.

          "I'll grant you that last point, but I shall be black and
          blue for a week. What are we to do now?" Gwig smiled at her
          recovery of her composure.

          "We shall survive and I shall see you wed. But we shall be
          on a tightened budget and for now we must perforce walk." Jucunda
          smoothed the font of his tunic, rumpled from her blows, and stepped
          away.

          "Very well then. And since we are about to become even more
          intimate traveling companions than previously, you may as well call
          me by the pet name by which I am known to my family and friends."

          "And what is that?"

          "Jucy." He gave her a toothy grin

          "Well then, Jucy, let us be off for Ghaspar."

          "A moment, Gwig." She said, sitting down on a large boulder
          and smoothing out her dress. "I shall be much better able to walk
          after I have had a good cry." And with that, she put her face in her
          hands and sobbed like a child.


          Chapter 6

          By Herod Antipas 2005

          The barbarian and the princess had been walking for several
          hours and the sun was directly overhead. For all that had happened,
          Gwig mused, she was turning out to be more of a boon traveling
          companion than he had expected. It was a shame he was going to have
          to spend part of his pay, but perhaps the sultan would make good the
          loss when he heard the story. The thought of this awakened an
          unwelcome pang at the thought of having to hand her over at the end
          of the trip. He smiled to himself as he thought about the way she
          had face down the bandit chief. She certainly hadn't folded in on
          herself that time. She had also much impressed him with how well
          she dealt with adversity, after the initial tempest of course. Here
          she was, sans horse, sans money, and sans wedding dress walking
          steadily down the road with him, or maube not. The princess had
          recently slowed and was beginning to sniffle.

          "What ho Jucy?" he asked "not mourning your trousseau again?"

          "No, it's not that," she said, wiping away a tear, "it's
          just that this is the longest I have walked in years. I was trying
          to be brave and not complain, but my thighs are well-nigh raw from
          rubbing together." Her voice broke.

          "Ah, it is my fault." He replied. "I should have thought."
          He was beginning to open his pack. "'Tis a common problem, not only
          with plump young ladies, but with some of the more heavy-thewed
          members of my cohort when I fought for the Grand Duchy of Leomond,
          where the fighters wear leathern kilts into battle. I will
          prescribe the Leomondian cure for you." He handed her a small
          bottle and two rolls of fabric, intended for use as bandages. "Do
          but wrap one bandage around the thickest part of each member and
          they will save you from further unnecessary friction. Tonight,
          anoint yourself with this liniment and you shall feel much better by
          morrow." She took the articles gratefully.

          "Turn your back, close your eyes, and cover your head with
          your cloak. I am to sore to venture even a few feet into the
          woods." While Gwig held this ridiculous position, she hiked up her
          dress and carefully wrapped each inflamed thigh with the soft
          fabric, securing it in place with two pins from her hair, which
          caused her scarlet tresses to fall down over her shoulders. "That
          does it. Now let us check the results." She took a few
          experimental steps, amused at the "whip-whip" noise she now made as
          she walked. "'Tis much improved already. I shall soon be ready to
          serve as a pikeman in the Grand Duchy of Leomond, although I hope it
          should not require me to sneak up on anybody."

          They walked a bit farther, Jucunda "whip-whipping" along
          when she asked a question in a small voice.

          "Gwig, tell me truly. Do you think me a lardbiscuit, as the
          brigand chieftain said?"

          "I think you a clever, spirited, and winsome girl. The fact
          that there is more of you than most women, be just an added bonus."
          He said this almost without thinking, then kept his eyes straight
          ahead so that neither saw the other one blush.

          "You know Gwig I was more angered when he called
          me "Plumpkin", for my father used to call me that as a term of love
          until my mother made him stop. We were not supposed to discuss my
          weight in her presence. My sisters would follow this rule and then
          serve me up double insults when we got back to the dormitory."

          "That sounds hard."

          "Nay not that hard. It is only as sisters will do.
          Dorcas's pimples, and Menolly's gap teeth were not spared. But we
          were a close family. Even my older sister Romna, who ran off with a
          troubadour was welcome back at the palace on feast days, albeit she
          had to sit at the servant's table. My father is a tenderhearted
          man, though he thinks no one knows it." Feeling homesick at this,
          she took Gwig's hand for a moment of comfort, then burst out
          laughing.

          "What, does our situation now strike you as funny, or does
          the Leomondian cure tickle?"

          "I just remembered a funny habit of Buttercup's when she has
          an unfamiliar rider. The first time that Barzac tries to ride her,
          she will wait about a quarter of an hour and then scrape him off
          under the first roof or low-lying tree limb she comes across. A new
          stablehand tried to steal her once and he was found a mile down the
          road with a broken ankle."

          "That's a pity then that we are here and he is there" Gwig
          grinned, "For I would dearly have liked to see that!"

          ***
          At their new, slower pace, the would not be reaching the
          next inn by nightfall, so Gwig looked around for a likely spot and
          finally picked an uphill clearing which afforded them a view of the
          road. This close to the Furiant Mountains, the air was already
          getting crisp at night. Gwig made a cheery fire and wrapped himself
          in his traveling cloak while Jucunda took the tent and their one
          remaining blanket. While Gwig reclined against a tree, prodding the
          fire with a long stick, Jucy was in the tent, applying the liniment
          he had given her.

          "Ugh!" she said, wrinkling her nose, "You neglected to tell
          me that this stuff smells like the breath of a diseased firedrake!"

          "Had I told you you would never have put it on. Rub in in
          well and the aroma will fade."

          She crawled out of the tent on her hands and knees, her
          generous belly almost scraping the ground. She considered the
          effort of standing up to walk the few feet to where Gwig was resting
          and instead crawled the rest of the way like a tot
          playing "horsie." She rolled over into a sitting position, legs
          apart, and began fanning her inner thoghs with the hem of her gown,
          to dissipate the fumes from the liniment. It was the original cream
          colored dress she had worn on the day of their departure, now
          filthy. Gwig watched her with a grin. She caught him and blushed,
          but also smiled.

          "Not much left of my royal decorum, is there Sir Gwig?"

          "Nay, it seems to me you show yourself a true princess by
          not going to pieces at the first sign of trouble. Every royal
          family is descended from some stalwart fellow bold enough to carve
          out a kingdom or wrest one away. But I have been thinking. Without
          our frippery, it may be best that we adopt a new guise for the
          nonce. I will be a soldier returning from the Northern wars. I am
          going to Ghaspar to book passage on a Southbound ship."

          "Then am I to be your?"

          "Sister."

          "So I am receiving a demotion." She said teasingly.

          "Aye and to keep up appearance, there will be no more
          ordering me about in public."

          "Then I shall have to order you about twice as much in
          private to catch up" she chuckled. They sat for a few minutes, just
          listening to the crackle of the fire. Gwig reached inside his pack
          and pulled out a stoppered flask.

          "That survival pack of yours appears bottomless. What is
          that? Another foul-smelling liniment?"

          "Much better than that" he said, putting the stopper out
          with his teeth, "This is Artabarian brandy. "Tis strong, so take
          only small sips." They passed the bottle back an forth and had
          drank off half of the sweet golden fiery stuff before Gwig replaced
          the cork and put the bottle away in his pack. With only a few
          strips of smoked venison in her stomach, the liquor was going to
          Jucunda's head, and causing her to lose some of her inhibitions.

          "Since there be no one here but thee and me," she
          began, "help me, Brother Gwig, for I need a man's point of view."

          "I'll do my best, Jucy my little sister."

          "Hast been with a large number of women? Surely it must be
          so, what with all your battle, and armies, and travels."

          "Perhaps not so many as you think, but aye, a few."

          "Any of my?avoirdupois?"

          "Close to't" he murmured, thinking of a lady tavern owner in
          Polidor and a young widow on a caravan he once guarded.

          "Did it present any particular, er challenges?" she asked,
          somewhat flustered.

          "Nay, not if the man be put together like most and the woman
          be of reasonable agility. But in the even of problems, there is one
          arrangement said never to fail. "Tis said the Andamar Islanders use
          it exclusively. The men there prefer a woman with a very broad
          fundament and the women take great pains to cultivate one. When an
          islander husband is due to return from a boar hunt, his wife will
          retire to their marital bed and arrange herself thusly, so that his
          favorite part shall be the first thing he sees when he comes through
          the door. She then settles in for a long wait." Jucunda let out a
          giggle and pushed him playfully

          "That was never a true story!"

          "Wholly true," he said with mock seriousness, "Some Andamar
          women have been known to hold the position for three or four days,
          with female relatives bringing them food."

          "Well, I certainly hope the Sultan will not oft go boar
          hunting, for it sounds like it would be hard on the knees."

          Gwig fell silent again. The brandy was getting to him as
          well and the conversation had been straying into bawdy territory.
          He wondered what her parents would think if they could see this,
          although she clearly knew how all the parts went together. Despite
          Gwig's misgiving, Jucunda was ready to continue.

          "Hast any other advice then, as to how I can keep the Sultan
          happy in the manner of husbands and wives?" He thought for a long
          time of how to put matters more delicately and finally came up with
          the following analogy.

          "Jucy," he began, "what is your favorite thing to eat?"

          "Roast duck with cherry sauce, but `tis a cruel question to
          ask, when I've had nothing but a nibble of smoked venison and sit
          here, wasting away to nothing." For emphasis she playfully lifted
          her belly with both hands and then let it drop back into her lap.

          "Suppose then that you were about to be served roast duck
          with cherry sauce, and could smell it from the kitchen, then see the
          dish brought in, then have it set before you, then watch it be
          carved. When you finally got to eat it would not the dish be even
          more savory for the waiting?" She had a faraway look in her eyes.

          "Yessss" she moaned, then snapped back to the
          present. "What has all that to do with pleasing my Sultan?"

          "You see, Jucy," continued Gwig, "In the doings of husbands
          and wives, the man experiences a certain "reward," which he greatly
          relishes. He is like a pig with an apple. An his wife let him, he
          will go straight to his "reward" in a metter of seconds. But if she
          be skillfull, she will draw out the meal, serving other dishes,
          making him wait for the roast duck with cherry sauce until he can
          stand it no longer and then, dinner is served!" Jucunda looked at
          him as if he had grown a second head.

          "So sex is like serving roast duck with cherry sauce to a
          pig with an apple?"

          "Exactly! He might even have a second helping. Moreover,
          the woman also experiences a "reward" and if he be a considerate
          husband he will see his wife is served before eating all of the
          roast duck with cherry sauce himself. Now does that clear things
          up?" Jucy burst out laughing, and continued, in full-throated,
          musical tones until tears streamed down her face and every part of
          her shook. This went on for a long time while Gwig sat there
          feeling like a pillock, his ears and face burning. Every time she
          seemed about to stop she erupted into fresh peals until she spent
          herself.

          "Oh?" she gasped "that was magnificent. She took his hand
          by way of reconciliation. "I'm sorry I led you along, but you must
          think me a right prat. Gwig, I have twelve older sisters, all of
          them now married. I have known about "rewards" for simply ages.
          Certes I am a virgin, but what made you think I have never
          been "rewarded?"

          "But then how?, I mean, with whom?" he sputtered

          "Who said I was with anyone at all?" When it got hot, a
          groom of ours, with black hair, used to pitch hay with his shirt
          off, and like clockwork my sister Dorcas used to keep the whole
          dormitory awake on account of the creakiness of her bed frame. We
          were all of us acquainted with the "little man in the boat."

          With that, she rolled back onto her hands and knees and
          crawled back to the tent, giving him a final view reminiscent of an
          Andamar islander's homecoming.

          "I know what you are thinking," she called back to him
          through the tent flap, "I can SO reach it!"









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          [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
        • Herod Antipas
          ... Well, alright then!
          Message 4 of 5 , Dec 31, 2005
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            --- In fantasyfictiondungeon@yahoogroups.com, "Yvette"
            <yvette_n_chad@y...> wrote:
            >
            > No Herod, it is not because Juicy is fat. I like Juicy, it's just
            > been a truly busy month for me. I only get a few minutes on the
            > computer to read the messages quickly and respond. I will try to
            > read today. :-)
            >


            Well, alright then!
          • Herod Antipas
            ... You have, I believe, already read chapter 6. It was tacked on to the end of chater 5 in this posting and I sent it to you separately. I think you are
            Message 5 of 5 , Dec 31, 2005
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              --- In fantasyfictiondungeon@yahoogroups.com, avalmistress@a... wrote:
              >
              > I read it and I am waiting on #6, please :)
              > you already know that I love it and want more!!!!!
              >
              > Christina
              >


              You have, I believe, already read chapter 6. It was tacked on to the
              end of chater 5 in this posting and I sent it to you separately. I
              think you are waiting on chapter 7, whcih I will send today.

              Thanx.

              H.A.
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