Apple Trees
- 1 year ago
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The Apple Tree Ch. 01 free porn video
Rebecca looked like most normal girls on the brink of her third decade. She was average height, with wavy light brown hair, almond eyes, a slight build, fair skin, and delicate hands. Her skin had not yet cleared from adolescent acne, but her hands were not terribly calloused. The sixth of seven daughters, she was allowed to learn reading and writing, given a chance to dust shelves for her uncle Ned the scribe and bookseller, and learn what she could from his inventory. When her father’s eldest brother passed away from a fever two years before, a wizard came to pay his respects.
The wizard was not yet a man with a great mane of grey hair like Rebecca imagined a wizard. The hair of his head and beard were lightly flecked with white, and his face was starting to wrinkle. The way he moved suggested strength and grace, although he was no athlete. His hands were an artist’s hands that knew no hard labor, and his eyes pierced her soul.
One morning, her mother told Rebecca she was to leave with the wizard. For a moment, dark fantasies flooded her imagination and she started to quiver uncontrollably. Her mother put them at rest immediately with a soft hand on the shoulder and a knowing look. ‘He thinks you can learn, he’s not looking for a servant or a concubine. Your uncle Ned believed him a man of honor, for a wizard, never accused of practicing any kind of Dark Art. If you can’t abide him, you can come home. Don’t worry, my dear. This is a great opportunity, don’t pass it by.’
‘But I’m afraid, Mother. What if he, if he, if he. . .’
‘He’s as man, don’t worry about that my dear, but I trust him as much as your own father. It’s said he could brew potions that can break anyone’s will and bend it to his own, work magic through his eyes, but I’ve never known him to use that power. If he wanted, he could rule the kingdom, but he chooses not to. Someone seeking such insight is rarely distracted by fleshly delights.’ Rebecca relaxed a little bit, and the older woman put her arm around her daughter’s shoulders. ‘We taught you how to defend yourself against attack, so you have knowledge that will keep you safe from anything ordinary. He wants you to go with him so he can teach you his arts, not make you his property.’
So Rebecca went with the wizard, who promptly instructed her to call him Master. Their relationship was cordial, however as they settled into a routine, she grew to enjoy his company as well as his instruction. The first year’s instruction focused on natural science, supplemented by trips to nearby farms and forests, to learn both animal and plant biology. There was also instruction on mathematics, astronomy, music and logic. The Master brought her back to his library the second year, leading her through works of history and myth, telling her of the gods and mortals, the rise and fall of empires, the development of technology. There were hints of deeper matters, the Master’s main work, but that was left to the future. ‘You have to know all this first, Rebecca, before you can go deeper. Only after you understand surfaces can you probe within, move from How to Why.’
The night of the equinox was chill as they stood on the balcony of the tower looking at the stars. ‘I’m always impressed by the heavens,’ she said.
‘How?’
‘The whole scope of it, stretching as far as the eye can see. Always a stability, yet always a change. The looking glass reveals more, and I guess if we could find stronger magnification, we’d see even more that’s hidden. Yet all these new sights makes me wonder what’s behind them. And that sense of wonder is a joy itself.’
A chill wind knifed from the north, and she shivered under her cloak. The Master put his arm around her shoulders and held her close, sharing his warmth with her. Nothing more was said as the hours turned slowly on the wheel of heaven.
The next day, she was free from obligations, so she left the tower to spend time in meditation at her favorite spot: a young apple tree growing by the stream that ran a quarter mile away. It was a spot she discovered soon after her arrival, and a place she’d come to study and relax. The Master never spoke of it, and she’d never seen him there, so it became as much her sanctuary as her room was. It was a place of peace and wonder, a small world entirely hers.
The sky was crystalline blue and the wind from the south, bringing new warmth of the changing season. By midday when she ate a simple meal, it was warm enough to consider bathing in the stream. The water was cool but not frigid: prolonged immersion a delightful treat after a long winter quickly sponging bits exposed only long enough to get cleansed. Rebecca reveled in the pool that formed by the stream’s meander next to the tree until her fingers were wrinkled, then lay down in the sunlight on the soft grass at the tree’s base to dry herself.
A tingle disturbed her revery as she savored the warm kiss of the sun on her skin. Looking up at the tower, she say the Master standing there, looking her direction, but as she sat up, he vanished. Quickly, she dressed herself in her simple gown and took a long walk through the woods to let the feeling subside.
She was not used to being a man’s focus of attention, much less have one gaze on her body with desire.
Of course, the Master could have seen her naked many times over the past couple of years. Her uncle Ned once said he had a magic mirror that could show him anything nearby, so he could spy on people at will. He never intruded on her space, or questioned about anything too personal. He did possess a few paintings and small figurines, including nudes, and a portrait of an ancient goddess with multiple arms and huge breasts dominated his personal study.
Rebecca’s fears did not subside over the course of the afternoon and she made her way back to the tower in the late afternoon. The cook left a kettle on the hearth, and a pot of water for tea. She made herself some tea and sipped it as supper approached, waiting for him to come down. The shadows grew longer, and he was late for supper.
Going up the stairs to the personal study, she heard little indications he was there. Her step wasn’t heavy, but she didn’t try to be silent, either. As she approached, she heard little mutters of intellectual exploration, an occasional cough, and as she got closer, breathing.
When she got to the top of the stairs, she thought her heart might burst. How would he see her now? He could overwhelm her, and perhaps a small piece of her consciousness wanted him to. Would he look at awkwardly, unused to giving affection and unsure of how to proceed? Or would he give her to tutorial gaze, asking what she’d learned from her day outside, and proposing an inquiry for her to pursue the next day?
He sat at his scriptorium, making notes from an ancient tome, lost in thought. His hand was a blur and the sound of his quill like a small insect struggling to escape a box. ‘Did you have a nice day?’ he asked, not looking up.
‘Yes, Master. You?’
‘Productive. Is something troubling you?’
She blinked and almost blushed. The quill scratched for about a minute and then was laid aside, as the Master lifted his head to look at his pupil quizzically. Her eyes were downcast and dared not meet his for several awkward moments. When she met his gaze she noticed he was a bit befuddled, not understanding for a little bit, then his eyebrows relaxed and he sighed, his shoulders slumping down. This tableau lasted for an eternal second, frozen in time.
Then he gave her an unusually gentle look, with an odd glow in his eyes. Then he gazed at the apple tree by the stream and pointed it out. ‘Look over there, Rebecca,’ he started ‘that tree hasn’t been around very long, only a few seasons. Soon it will bear fruit.’
A slight breeze stirred the branches, waving at them in greeting. ‘It’s strong wood, will be a glorious sight in a year or two when it’s fully budded out, its flowers smelling sweetly and
the ripe fruit hanging down. It has a rare grace even now, a delightful contour, a subtle lithe quality, like a young dancer at rest. I could build a treehouse in its branches now, but it would tax the young tree too much, and it would droop and warp under the premature weight. I could cut it down now, build a new writing desk or chair, even turn it into a lifetime supply of toothpicks. . .’ Rebecca gasped at the last remark, but the Master held up a warning finger: ‘. . .but that would be a travesty. The loss of such young beauty would be more than I could bear: my heart would ache the rest of my days without healing. No, it will stay. I love to gaze on its beauty when I need refreshment. It is a work of art, and the sight of it lifts my spirits and fills my heart with peace even now.’
After a moment, she asked urgently: ‘Master, what about me?’
‘What about you?’
‘Has my service been acceptable? Is there anything more you require of me?’
He took a long, slow sip of the goblet at his elbow. Giving her a rare look in the eye, he nodded. ‘You are very bright, and with more training and experience your magic will make the world a much better place.’ After a moment’s pause, he bent down, resuming his note taking from the large tome on the stand beside him.
‘Is there anything else you want me of me?’ She asked a little anxiously, not knowing what to offer.
The quill stopped suddenly, hanging in midair. ‘You are a work of art, and you lift my spirit.’ Then it went back to its scratching.
The shadow of a cloud passed the window, and a breath of spring, full of fragrance and promise, casually filled the room. Rebecca thought of a few little tasks she had to do, but chose to stay put for a few moments. The warmth of new spring even made the corner of her Master’s mouth lift momentarily.
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