* The solstice arrives * The Yule log * A kiss * Salt and Honey * The Yule feast

* Overindulgence and dancing * The Count is tired * A promise for the future

His preparations for the celebration went quickly, while my days were filled with my continuing explorations of the confounding doorway. I struggled with the books, so many of which were lined and marked with marginalia and notes. I devised many clever ciphers which served to translate between the specified words and the five latches on the doorway, but to no avail.

On the night before the solstice, we gathered in Cambel's apartments, he and I and the entire staff in attendance. It was hours past midnight and the full moon was rising low in the horizon. "The moon is full and round on this auspicious solstice," Cambel said, "and the Goddess will give birth to a fat child. The year will be rich and fruitful and all will prosper. On this, the longest night of the year, the Goddess smiles on her newest child, giving light to his birth and aiding him is his campaign against the powerful Winter. It is truly a propitious beginning for a new Sun King."

The room was cold, and I noticed that there was no fire in the fireplace. That was soon remedied when one of the staff brought in one half-burnt log and placed it on the fire-grate. "This is the Yule log," Cambel said. "It is the Wheel of the Year. It is the last log of last Yule's fire and it will light this year's Yule fire, burning one year into another, completing the cycle as the Wheel carries us through the heavens and the Earth." He took a torch from another servant and lit it with a candle held by one of my maids, then thrust it into the fireplace and we all gasped with excitement as the Yule log burst into glorious flame, warming the entire chamber in the briefest of moments. Cambel and I stared into the flame, side-by-side, while the servants hurried off to continue the preparations.

The Count bade me sit, and no sooner had I taken a chair than did the staff return bearing a table upon which were two jewel-encrusted cups, filled with a sweet and spiced liquid. Cambel lifted his cup towards me and I did the same towards him. "Wassail!" he said. "Be hale and hearty all the year through."

"I wish the same to you," I said, gently tapping my cup into his, then taking a long draught of the fragrant wine. It was rich and powerful, filled with the essences of apples and cinnamon and the strange lands of the east; I could not help but drink more and more, until the large cup was drained. As I put the cup down on the table, its warmth roared through me and I could feel the flush rising in my cheeks and the smile growing on my face. Suddenly, there were instruments playing and the staff were carolling and the Count was asking me to dance. And dance I did, with such abandon as I had never before felt. My skirts flowed around me like river water rushing past a delighted toddler's legs. The fullness of my flesh was not lost on me and I felt such strange rhythms passing through my body that I imagined I was in the ocean, bobbing like a cork in the swells of surf, adrift and care-free.

As we flowed across the floor, I had occasion to let my head loll backwards, and at that moment, I espied the mistletoe hanging from the rafters directly above our heads. Freed by the fire of the liquor in my veins, I brazenly put my palms on Cambel's slender back and pressed his face close to mine. He did not resist, and as he came closer to me than any man ever had, his lips parted slightly and I could taste the viniferous perfume of his breath. Then, our faces pressed together and our tongues began tasting and tangling, searching in desperate passion for the essence of each other's soul. I felt my breasts crushing against his strong chest as his hands moved in frenzy all about my back and shoulders. His hips pressed hard against me and I could feel the intense heat of his groin like a firebrand against the soft swelling of my belly. That heat poured through me like some conflagration of epic proportions, its furore inflamed ever fiercer, when his strong hands began kneading the round globes of my derriere. I could not help but imagine that the temperature of our union was melting me -- melting us -- softening our bodies that we might become one flesh.

I do not know for how long we were lost in our impassioned embrace, only that the music had stopped and the room had been emptied of all other occupants when finally our lips parted, and my head rested on his strong shoulder, the breaths coming in great gasps to my heaving bosom. "I have never before..." said I.

"Nor, I," he continued. "But if that joy should come from but a kiss, I can only imagine that anything more should be too much for a mortal."

We walked hand in hand to the table which had been laid out for us, and when we had taken our seats, Cambel opened a salt-cellar and poured a bit on his hand, then held his outstretched palm to me and said, "The year dies. This is the salt of the earth. This is the salt of our bodies. This is the salt of the Great Western Ocean over which we travel on the journey to the Summer Lands. This is the salt of sorrow and of pain. Taste the salt. Taste death." He held his palm near my chin and I bent my head down and licked the salt from the flat of his hand, tasting its tang as well as the faint note of him. He then took my hand and turned it over, pouring a bit of salt on palm before bending over me and cleaning the white crystals from my flesh. His tongue was hot and sinuous on my delicate flesh, tickling me in spots I'd never known to have such sensitivity. My head rolled back around my shoulders of its own accord and a great shudder began in my spine and radiated outward.

When I opened my eyes again, it was to see his amused countenance, smiling gently at my pleasures. He then removed the top from the honey jar and once again poured some on his palm, saying, "The year is born. This is the sweetness of life, the sweetness of birth, the sweetness of mother's milk and golden days. This is the sweetness of joinings and beginnings and hope and love. Taste the sweetness. Taste of life." Once again, I was bidden to taste from his open hand, and once again I did so, revelling in the dark sugar of the rich liquid, rejoicing in the way it coated my tongue and my lips and my teeth. Again and again, I lapped at his palm like a kitten at a saucer of milk, until every last bit of stickiness was gone from his skin and my mouth was awash with joy. He poured some in my hand, then and I held it open for him allowing him to lick my entire hand clean, to suck on my fingertips, to nibble at the places where my fingers joined my palm, to place hot kisses on my wrists.

"And now we let the new sun make his entrance," he said when all the honey was cleaned from me, proffering his hand to assist me in rising from the table. We walked over to the window once again, and in the splendour of that dawn, the brilliant rosy streaks enlivening the cloud-dappled skies, I could not wish to look anywhere else but at his noble face, nor could he seem to tear his glance from mine. His hand reached around my waist and our hips pressed together, side by side, in total peace and comfort. I leaned my head on his shoulder, feeling of a sudden the enormous exhaustion that had been staved off by the pleasures of the preceding hours. My eyelids were leaden, and in but a moment, the soft but strong arms of my maids gently guided me out of the Count's apartments and into my own chambers. Once alone, I sought to continue the sensual tenor of the evening as I had been doing more and more frequently when I was abed, but this morning, sleep came upon me too quickly and I drifted off into dreams of my one True Love.

The morning had long passed and the brief afternoon was quickly waning when I finally arose. The twins came to me immediately, with all the preparations for a luxurious bath. I stood in the basin and unabashedly let my imagination convince me that it was Cambel himself who ministered to my flesh. When Rose's hands began rapidly sponging the softness of my prominent abdomen, I gently took hold of her wrist, my eyes still closed, and began moving it in slow circles around the swollen paunch. I let out an audible sigh and I could hear knowing giggles from the two girls. Taking a hint from my unspoken request, Lily changed her sponging of my rear to something more akin to a kneading caress, while her sister next began teasing my nipples with the nap of the cloth. I was so enraptured, that I wished that bath never to end.

Eventually, though, the water began to take on a chill, and I became resigned to the end of that lavation. They helped me to dress in my favourite gown, and I took a moment to marvel once again on its miraculous construction, in that I had certainly grown some in girth since the beginning of my captivity, and yet, the dress never ceased to fit without binding or discomfort. Once I was properly attired, the maids informed me that the Yule feast was due to begin at sunset and that we would partake of the feast in the Spring Room: the Count's new chambers.

The girls escorted me up the steps and through the long hallway, curtseying politely as they opened the door and allowed me to precede them into the room. It was even more resplendent in the rich light of late afternoon than it had been in the light of the dawn. Cambel came over to take my hand, dressed in a verdant green jacket of the plushest velvet, adorned with a thin but intricate brocade of gold. We walked across the room to the table which was groaning under the weight of the incredible number of dishes which hid its polished surface. He sat at the head of the table and I sat at his right hand, launching the festivities with a hearty toast to the beginning of the new sun.

The musicians played some heavenly tune, full of air and sweetness, rich with strings and braided into a shimmering euphony by the strange rhythms sounded on the oaken drums. The staff had their own table and in a great mood of conviviality, we began to taste of the abundance of the fall harvests and catches of game. There were roast pheasant and woodcock and venison and boar, puddings and savoury pies and stews, great piles of breads and cakes and pastries. The bounty seemed endless, and, as was my custom, I ate with great gusto, tasting of each delicacy and having my fill of those I deemed most worthy. The courses followed one after another, and we washed them down with great quantities of ale and wine, interrupting our gluttonous endeavours only for the occasional round of dancing. The staff were very polite, but not afraid to join in, and I found myself taking several turns with the doctor and the stable master and even the footman.

But it was in Cambel's arms that I yearned to be, and more often than not, that is where I found myself. He had no lack of attention for me, whether we were dancing or eating or staring at the moon, just one day past full. The musicians kept up their strange and affecting melodies which seemed to inflame my desire to eat and to dance and to do such things as I knew were forbidden.

It was long past midnight, and I was seated at the table, pleasantly exhausted from dancing and from eating. I could feel my stomach stretched to its capacity, straining at the forgiving seams of my wonderful dress. Cambel finished a turn with one of my young maids and came over to where I was seated. "You are tired," he said, intending the statement as a question.

"I am satisfied," I said, smiling up at his beautiful face.

"Then you are finished with the dancing and the feasting?" He kneeled down next to me, so that our faces were very close.

"I wish I could do more of both, but I fear I have reached my limits."

"On nights such as this," he said, "there should be no limits." He moved his face closer to mine and once again we found ourselves buried in the depths of a kiss deeper than any Apollo ever bestowed on Daphne. His hand brushed my shoulder and my breast, coming to rest, finally on the clothed swelling of my engorged stomach. As his tongue traced circles inside my mouth, so did his hand describe the same path around my expansive abdomen. The more he caressed me and kissed me, the more I became aware of a hunger growing within me. But how could I be hungry, I wondered, having dined on such a massive meal? I knew, however, that this hunger originated in a place which lies below my belly, yet could be quelled, if not satisfied, by more food.

When, at last, we broke apart from our kiss, burying its intensity with a cascade of soft nuzzles and nibbles, my appetite had been renewed, and I summoned the captain to bring me another plate of meat and pudding. I began to eat again as if I had not yet eaten anything at all that night. When my voracity flagged, the Count was right beside me to assist me in my gluttony, cutting my food into bite-sized morsels, and bringing them to my lips. He kissed me softly for encouragement, his hand hardly ever leaving my body, and I licked his fingers which carried the food to my waiting mouth. When we stood to dance, I could feel the weight of my gorged stomach yielding to gravity's pull. Unaccustomed to its swollen dimensions, I felt it clumsily brush each surface I passed, each dancer I came close to; that it often encountered Cambel's touch, I was certain, was no accident, and it sent secret thrills through my being.

All good things must eventually end, and this feast was no exception. Ere the dawn showed its countenance, the staff bid us goodnight, and my two maids came to assist me back to my chambers. Cambel was sitting in a side chair, surveying the litter of the festivities. In the growing light, I could see how drawn his face was, how marked with care-drawn lines, how hollow his cheeks and sunken his eyes. I yearned to comfort him, to be some balm for his troubles, but I knew that the only thing to save him would be to find our way into the light of day.

He rose and kissed my hand as I departed, then engaged me in one last deep kiss, where I pressed my swollen stomach against his slender frame and he embraced me, his hands circling my once-narrow waist. "I wish that I could stay," I said, uncaring of my directness.

"You will, one day," he replied. "When you are my wife. When we are free from this place." He bowed and I followed my two companions back to my rooms. There, undressed, I stood before the mirror, marvelling at the new proportions of my feast-full abdomen, and repeating his words, "When you are my wife," while allowing my own hands to substitute for his future caresses.

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