Cockswords & Berries: A tale of kings and maidens

By Royal Scribe

Original preview published 2013: Full novel released April 1, 2016! After a chance encounter and unlikely romantic audience with the King of Rivasor, a nubile young waif of peasant bloodline becomes the first and only bed maiden to make the virile and famously well-endowed monarch climax during bedplay. Many admire her talent. Others envy her stain. Some fear her power over the throne. She must be wary no one discovers her own dark secret in the turmoil that ensues!

What if an ancient kingdom existed where, as a result of natural selection and evolution, all the men had horsean cockswords and all the women had clenchtight berries?
What if, along with that biological evolution, an erostopian society developed in which attitudes and practices around intercourse, eroticism as well as gender wiring and roles evolved naturally without dogma, shame-based stigma and control-based repression? A place where carnal desire was neither sinful nor cause for embarrassment and where the naturalness of that desire and its quenching were an integral part of that kingdom’s language, lore and even its law?
What if the king of such a land were the man with the biggest cocksword who, in order to remain king, was required to withhold his spew and never again “stain” another?

stain – v. informally, to ejaculate onto another’s skin; n. the visible mark roused by such contact. See ALCHEMY OF STAIN in Appendix

When a Rivasoran man’s semen makes contact with a woman’s skin (on any part of her body), a unique mark—a stain—appears on her forehead within one to two hours.
Elders in the community know who is mating with whom, for they can recognize, for instance, the stain of the blacksmith’s son (or the blacksmith, himself!) on the seamstress’ daughter.
As for the royal stain, few people know what it looks like, and even fewer have actually seen it carried—for kings are forbidden from spewing their kreem as long as they hold the throne. Therefore, to carry the King’s stain, as bed maiden Reina now does, is cause for much whispering and finger pointing among Rivasor clusterfolk,
NOTE: In Rivasor, to be stained is to carry the stainer’s creative power upon oneself. It is a public declaration of a man’s potency and a woman’s desirability. The stain remains visible for approximately forty-eight hours.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Royal Scribe
• Release date: Feb 11, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301763535

Royal Scribe

I am the Royal Scribe of the cluster of Rivasor.

Book preview

To

Ask

Plot

Place

Players

Prologue

Welcome

The Rivasor Way

The Prologue Resumes

CHAPTER 1: Summoned

CHAPTER 2: Transformation

CHAPTER 3 As Sway Compels

CHAPTER 4: Sweet Destruction

CHAPTER 5: Eyes on the Throne

CHAPTER 6: Once & Former King

CHAPTER 7: On The Fall of Rivasor

CHAPTER 8: Dune Maiden in Exile

CHAPTER 9: Returning Wayfarer

CHAPTER 10: A Clash of Kings

EPILOGUE: Harder the Struggle

SCRIBE APPENDIX-Society

Doth thou desire more?

Sate thy curiosity!

Also

To:

time and enduring alchemy



The author wishes to acknowledge the folk and council members (of yor, yow and yet) of Rivasor, Camrin, Caspone, Xisha, Adaxx and other nomad clusters whose frequent communication and renderings upon the ether of universal mind allowed this tale to be received and accurately transcribed.

Ask

a foreword



What happens when an irresistible force meets an immovable object?

This apparent paradox entertains and confounds scholars in thy realm. It is apparent, because in truth, it is a false dilemma; self-contradictory; flawed, because the two forces/objects in question are one in the same. Two such extremes cannot co-exist, for "any object whose momentum or motion cannot be changed is, by definition, an immovable object, and it would halt any other object that moved relative to it, making it also an irresistible force."

In the ancient land of Rivasor, a comparable but more important paradox exists—a question the answer to which affects the lives of maidens and men—and that question is:

What happens when impenetrable berry meets unsheathable cocksword?

Fortunately, there is no need for thee or scholars to debate this particular dilemma of entwinement. Thou shalt need only immerse thyself within this tale of kings and maidens to experience the answer for thyself!

Key

tale

lesson & lore

 journal

♠ missive

See Appendix for Glossary of Rivasor terms

Plot



After a chance encounter and unlikely romantic audience with the King of Rivasor, a nubile young waif of peasant bloodline becomes the first and only bed maiden to make the virile and famously well-endowed monarch climax during bedplay. Many admire her talent. Others envy her stain. Some fear her power over the throne. She must be wary no one discovers her own dark secret in the turmoil that ensues!

stain – v. informally, to ejaculate onto another’s skin; n. the visible mark roused by such contact. See alchemy of Stain

When a Rivasoran man’s semen makes contact with a woman’s skin (on any part of her body), a unique mark—a stain—appears on her forehead within one to two hours.

Elders in the community know who is mating with whom, for they can recognize, for instance, the stain of the blacksmith’s son (or the blacksmith, himself!) on the seamstress’ daughter.

As for the royal stain, few people know what it looks like, and even fewer have actually seen it carried—for kings are forbidden from spewing their kreem as long as they hold the throne. Therefore, to carry the King’s stain, as bed maiden Reina now does, is cause for much whispering and finger pointing among Rivasor clusterfolk,

NOTE: In Rivasor, to be stained is to carry the stainer’s creative power upon oneself. It is a public declaration of a man’s potency and a woman’s desirability. The stain remains visible for approximately forty-eight hours.

dfd

Place



e·ros·to·pi·a n. - an imaginary place where attitudes and behavioral norms concerning intercourse, desire, eroticism as well as gender roles and wiring have evolved naturally without repressive dogma, shame-based stigma and control-based laws; a place free, therefore, of dysfunction, bodily embarrassment, jealousy and gender conflict.

Players

(in order of appearance)



Maiden Reina

The Taller and Shorter Maidens

The Royal Scribe

Bronson

The King

Aimshur

Teacher Tara

Sonora

Romatra

The Royal Seamstress

The Four Care Maidens

The Royal Renderer

Aramil, the Royal Messenger

The Royal Songstress

The Council of Seven

That Woman of Camrin

Calstean the Saddler

Denalo

Molory

The Election Maidens

The Pretender King

Jorda and Gyrard

Jonthu and his cluster

Prologue



THOUGHTS

The king should have the biggest cocksword.

It was a simple, well-reasoned conclusion maiden Reina reached while contemplating her good fortune at having been chosen the King’s bed maiden. If ever there were a reason to make a man king, this should surely be it. It made sense. A king should be a man among men. A king should be the strongest of men; the most virile; the bravest; the most well-endowed. How could one allow oneself to be led and ruled by a man who was not the manliest of men?

When a king commands his minions and maidens to do his bidding, it should be because of his power. True power. Not the false, unearned power that comes by virtue of a bloodline; not the assigned power that comes from having been appointed commander of armies. Nay, true power is not something one is born into. Nor is it something conferred upon one by decision or decree. True power is something one is born with. It is something intrinsic to one’s being. It is something that comes from one’s inherent ability to be or to do a thing. To be king, a man should wield the cocksword of sensual conquest before he should be allowed to hold the scepter of the monarchy.

Of course, there were other qualities and traits a king should exhibit, maiden Reina thought, but this should surely be one of them. It made sense. A man should not be allowed to rule a kingdom if he could not even conquer a woman.

The first time her gaze fell upon the King’s hardened, hoisted pleasurer, she felt compelled to fall to her knees to worship it. She did not quite know why. It was an uncontrollable response. She needed to kiss it. She burned to suckle it. She had to consume it. She enjoyed the difficulty of taking it inside her small mouth as it stretched her jaw beyond maidenly propriety. Feeling herself opening her mouth so wide to be entered and probed by the King’s mammoth trunk made her feel wanton and lustful, yet vulnerable and weak, and she loved it. She wanted, nay, needed to feel its swell and weight within her mouth. She had no doubts as to the King’s complete power when she surrendered her mouth to him. Yes, that first night in the King’s bed marked the beginning of his many conquests of her body, and she yearned for more of the same. Such was the nature of maiden Reina’s thoughts.

As she tended to her duties that afternoon in the kitchen, preparing the evening meal for her employer’s household, she realized she would need to cast such thoughts from her mind—at least for the moment—if she ever hoped to complete the preparation of food in a reasonable and timely manner. She had been holding and staring at the same cucumber for the past ten minutes.

SUMMONED

Maiden Reina of Rivasor,

By decree of the King, and with the support of the people of Rivasor, thou art hereby summoned once again to the King’s bedchamber two suns hence at twitter light.

Of all the bed maidens at the King’s behest, thou art being summoned because of thy ability to coax his majesty’s voluminous and copious kreem—a talent rare among the maidens of the realm.

Four care maidens shall attend thee on that selfsame morning to prepare thy body for the pleasure of the King.

Thou art instructed to appear at the King’s bedside adorned and fragranced in the manner he has informed the seamstress and maidens is his preference for this night. Present thyself for his taking and to be used one again for his pleasure.

As is customary, the royal scribe and royal renderer shall be present at this copulation so as to preserve the event in word and sketch. The royal crier shall ring the Visitor Square bell at the moment of thy next success in spewing the water of the King’s loins, such that all shall be aware their King has been duly pleasured.

Hear ye. Hear ye.

The royal scribe

at the behest of THE KING

Thus read the King’s summon of maiden Reina.

MISSIVE

Insatiably, thy servant

Your Royal Majesty,

I have been and forever shall be thine to do with as thou please. As is thy right as King, thou may take any pleasure thou desireth from me.

My being is devoted to thy pleasure and even two suns doth seem a distant horizon until this poor waif may offer herself for thy consumption and sate.

I surrender myself to thy every desire and beg your Majesty to take pity on my now wanton soul and hasten our meeting so that I may be opened and devoured once again by thy mighty loins.

The thought of thy majesty’s hot and powerful kreem staining me is all that sustains me as I await, anxious to feel my master’s muscular form, and voracious hunger upon me.

I am, insatiably, thy servant,

Maiden Reina

Thus read the first of maiden Reina’s unusual missives to the monarch.

It was unusual not solely because she was a maiden penning love letters to a king, but because no bed maiden had ever carried nor talked openly of carrying the King’s stain—at least not in recent memory. She had, to the shock of all, become the King’s water wench.

The King’s water wench. The term itself was a contradiction. Kings did not fire, so there could be no kreem to swallow, and thus ‘king’s water wench’ was a concept that simply did not exist in the minds or spoken word of the realm.

She thought of how she first met the King. It had been a chance encounter, really. If she had paused but one moment to take an extra sheet from the wash pan, she would not have crossed the courtyard at the moment the King passed her gate. Rivasor is a small cluster, but paths can go uncrossed for quite some time, and if one is the King, rushing hither and yon on all manner of mission and mayhem, paths may not cross for many seasons. At that moment, however, as he and Aimshur, the master archer and king’s right arm, passed through the cobbles, the King glanced towards her gate, and something about her visage held his gaze. It might have been the purse of her lips or the form of her bare feet. In one of life’s eternal mysteries, no one can predict what mix of face and form shall fetch a man’s gaze or stir his loins. Whether it be that of king or of commoner, women raise men’s horse in overmany ways.

TWAIN

Maiden Reina! Maiden Reina! the two young maidens whispered aloud and in unison as they approached her excitedly in the courtyard of Sanyam the trader’s dwell.

Maiden Reina turned from hanging clothes on the line, and dried her hands in her apron.

Thou must swear on thy life thou wilt tell no one of this, the taller of the maidens began, for they would surely flog us or have our heads should it be known we told thee.

What is this about? maiden Reina asked curiously.

"Thou doth not know us, maiden Reina, but we, well all in the palace doth know thee!" said the shorter maiden.

Maiden Reina blushed.

We art the royal bathers for the King—, the taller continued. And, we… her voice dropping to a barely audible whisper, as she glanced around furtively to make sure no one could hear. …we art the bathers of the royal cocksword.

Yes, the two of us! the shorter almost shouted proudly with a demure giggle.

Keep thy voice low, the taller one scolded. The shorter cast her eyes down.

Well, yesternight, we were bathing the King—, the taller continued.

—and his royal cocksword, added the shorter.

Yes, we were bathing His Majesty when thy missive arrived, said the taller.

The royal messenger brought it, the shorter added, feeling this was a necessary detail.

Maiden Reina was becoming a bit impatient.

As he gazed upon thy words, his measureless—

—endless, the shorter chimed in, nodding as she did, ...and thick!

Yes, thick and long...

Yes?? Go on! maiden Reina intoned in exasperation, realizing the young maidens were being distracted by their own minds’ renderings.

Oh, um, yes. Well, as he read thy letter, our King’s heavy pleasurer became so thick and so hard...

"We’d never seen it like that before!" the shorter added with eyes wide.

Never, added the taller with eyes wide, shaking her head in earnest disbelief.

And we wash it every night, thou knowest, the shorter added in a serious tone to convey the importance of their daily duties.

It pointed straight up and, with the water and soap falling from it, resembled a glistening sword ready for battle, the taller said, her head tilted slightly to the right.

It haunted my dreams last night, the shorter whispered wistfully to herself, unaware she was speaking aloud. The taller one gave her a nudge with her elbow, and the young maiden bowed her head in embarrassment.

Clearly thou art his favorite, maiden Reina, the taller said encouragingly as she touched maiden Reina’s arm.

Would that it be me in his bed overmorrow instead of thee, the shorter blurted out innocently.

The taller gave her a stern look, and the shorter looked at the floor.

My apologies, maiden Reina, the shorter whispered.

That is quite alright, sistren. I give no name and no judgment. I know how ye feel.

Well, we shall not tarry! We must return to the palace before they miss us, the taller one began. We art all so happy—

—and envious— added the shorter.

—for thee! the taller finished. They bounded out of the courtyard and into the noontime sun, giggling and whispering to each other as they disappeared.

Yes, in a few days, maiden Reina would once again be in the King’s bed. She enjoyed being the object of a man’s lust. Though a maiden would never speak of such things, she had enjoyed trysts with a few young men of Rivasor as well as with wayfarers. She enjoyed knowing that her loins could elicit a man’s desire. She relished the fact that the thought and sight of her naked body could make a man’s pleasurer rise and drip with anticipation.

This, however, was no ordinary man. This was a king. This was the King. This was her King. And, she would be in his bed in less than two suns. She was to be the King’s plaything, his bed maiden. He chose her, and the thought of it moistened her loins constantly throughout the days and nights even as she tried her best to distract her thoughts to other matters more befitting a maiden of her common status.

But she could not get the thoughts from her mind. Everyone knew that this king did not lust as other men did. As the palace maidens had just told her, since the moment of his victory in the contest for king, the royal bathers and washers had rarely seen the royal cocksword erect even though they caressed and cleaned it daily. They had heard stories from the few who had been lucky enough to experience the strength of his size and thrusts of his desire in their roles as bed maiden to the king, but those stories were few and far between.

Yes, he was a bit different from other men who had held the throne. It made her wonder if, perhaps, his cocksword hoisted during battle too. She wondered if the blood lust of the battlefield was in any way similar to the lust of entwinement, and that if, perhaps, given the infrequency of his his lust was reserved, in part, for conquests of a different kind—the kind that a king and protector accomplished for the benefit and freedom of his realm and his subjects.

She wondered often about the King. She wondered about many parts of the King, in fact.

She thought about her scheduled copulation with him and imagined herself in his embrace, and she thought about the parts of his body that caused her wetness.

She thought about his hands. In her dreams, those hands that wielded a mighty steel sword and gripped it with the strength necessary to kill men during the fray were caressing her breasts and molding them at his will.

The arms that could slay savage and powerful men in battle were lifting her up and down effortlessly upon his mighty cocksword.

The strong torso and waist that undulated with power as he mounted his steed and galloped into battle was now hers to mount and ride. The King was her stallion, she mused.

The chest that housed the heart of a lion and warrior, was heaving with his lust for her, as his weight crushed her into the softness of his bed sheets.

Yes, these were images a maiden could not easily wrest from her thoughts try as she might.

However, there were other thoughts that haunted her. She knew not whether she could continue to sate the king. She of short trek upon the sphere; she of little bedplay, against the ways of normal thought, had made the king fire, and now her world had turned upside down. She could not believe fortune had so blessed her. Or had it been a curse?

In any event, she had been summoned once again by the King, the man who had kept her and everyone in the cluster and the realm free from slavery at the hands of invaders. Soon, maiden Reina would be his slave; a slave of a different sort, and she welcomed the impending surrender, capture and conquest with an unrelenting and dripping desire.

Welcome



Welcome to Rivasor. I am the royal scribe of the King’s court. To truly understand the world thou art about to enter, thou must first understand what sets us apart from the folk of other realms. As a result of the wisdom of those of yor, we have developed as a people defined by the natural ways of our men and women. We exist free of the shackles of mind that bind and pit man against woman in other curves and spheres. We labor under no clouds that taint our view as to what defines us as man or maiden. We know that what we do for trade doth not define us. We know that neither lineage nor lucre maketh nor measureth the man or woman. Nature has decreed that there is no other way for a man to experience manliness than when his power is directed to the plumbing of a woman’s berry, and there is no more natural way for a woman to feel her womanliness than when she has a girthful cocksword betwixt lips or loins.

Not through weapon or tool

nor through wash pan or thule

No, thy place in the dance

comes through dainty and lance

We consider this the most obvious of truths.

In Rivasor, as a result of overmany seasons of such beliefs and bedplay, there is neither shame in the thirst of desire, nor in its quench. In other lands, desire and entwinement art viewed negatively. They art viewed as dirty need and dirty deed. As a result, the act, while pleasurable, is never as enjoyable as might be—fraught as it is with such negative ideas. However, to fully understand how all this came to be, let us begin at the beginning.

The Rivasor Way



Genesis

Italiced items are excerpts from Origins of the Upright, a Rivasor sacred scroll explained in the lectures of Digor, the historian

Ye of selfsame soul doth share selfsame goal

In the times of yor, the nomadic people of this curve of the sphere roamed the dunes for thousands of seasons. During that time, they came to understand that each person comes to view the world from different height and through different eyes, and each roamed with different roles and different goals. In recognition of that simple truth, as well as for reasons of basic survival, those with the same worldview and levels of soul development and purpose were drawn to each other, and thus, clusters of selfsame soul were formed.

Ye of selfsame kine shall walk well in line

However, survival alone was not what kept cluster kin and kine roaming as one. There was also the matching of genderways. Over generations of wandering across the dunes, men of a certain type of manliness grouped with those of similar kine. Women of certain feminine kine bonded with women of similar kine and thus formed genderkine groups.

Ye of balance of cure shalt the other so lure

"However, intra-gender temperament alone was not what kept cluster kin and cluster kine roaming through overmany seasons. There was also pleasure and happiness between genders. The original nomad seed saw matching and mating as the attraction to and balance between complementary cures and moods. Men and women of contrasting yet complementary manly and womanly genderways were attracted to each other. Men who existed on a particular point along the range of manly cures—from less manly to more—found their pleasure and happiness with women of mirror womanly cure—from less womanly to more. Similarly, women of a certain temperament found their mates in men with mood that was ‘mirror yet match’ to their own, and thus developed pairings based on compatible cure."

Ye of contrast of frame maketh of mating a game

However, the pleasure and happiness of the many and the more art not the ends, but merely the means to an end. The end they serve is that which is decreed by nature. Nature compels attraction between man and maiden for its own purposes. Tall attracts and balances short. Big attracts and balances small. Everything interesting in nature exists in the contrasts. Thus, over time, in this particular curve of the sphere, for nature’s own rhyme and reason, men of large frame and cocksword girth were attracted to and balanced by women of small frame and berry. Such was the alchemy that drew men to maidens. The ancient nomads expressed the relationship between nature and pleasure thusly:

The upright art slave to alchemy

Alchemy is slave to evolution

Those of yor (the past) recognized that the betterment of those of yet (the future) was served by the alchemy between those of yow (the present). Through the power of true alchemic attraction, men and women art drawn to each other, and through mating they bequeath to their immediate progeny and then to future generations certain adaptive, survival-optimizing and pleasure-maximizing traits.

Thus, the original seed and ancestral dune travelers drew unto themselves other men and women of same soul, sight of eye, temperament, compatible cure, and who shared contrasting yet complementary physiologies that passed from generation to generation—in a never-ending cycle of alchemic attraction and physical pleasure and evolved progeny.

"And it came to pass that these men, favored by nature’s wish, inherited the look and line of their forbearers’ lengthy and