I look at your body, the skin of your neck glistening in the still night air as you sleep and I smile with secret delight. Walking over to you I gaze down at your face, reaching out to stroke the dark hair framing it. Leaning over I lightly kiss your soft lips, tasting their flavor. My body tingles, as I wrap a dark tendril around my finger as the candle flames highlight the fiery strands mixed in. Leaving a kiss on the tendril, I let it fall to your shoulder and move to lie beside you, my heart beating hard with the passion of  remembered embraces. I reach my finger out to touch the bare skin of your shoulder, making its way slowly along the curved bodice of your gown. I lean over and let my tongue resume my fingertip's journey along the material, stopping at the dip between your breasts. I can taste the wondrous essence of my lover. 

Taking time to lick the cool skin, my senses real with passion, barely able to contain myself. I feel the wetness between my legs, the release I need so badly trying to break free. I run my tongue back up your beautiful neck, stopping to feel the gentle pulse of the vein at the base of your throat. I moan with desire for you.  With infinite tenderness, my left hand slides beneath the bodice of your gown, cupping your breast. 

Moving to kneel before you, I slide the material down, exposing your beauty. My breath stops. I groan with the vision and bend forward to take your exquisite nipple in my mouth. My lips slide around the tiny bud, my tongue teasing it to hardness. You moan in your far away dreams. 

Swirling my tongue around this delicate pink delight, I slide my hand slowly up under your gown, trailing my fingertips along the inside of your thigh. Your legs open to me, as if by the bond that connects us.  Oh, the passion fires me, my wetness now blazing, wanting you so much. I lean further forward and lay kisses up your thigh, ...climbing higher, knowing what delight awaits me. I need your essence. 

I need you. Reaching that dark place between your legs, I open them further to allow me access to what is mine.  My lips lightly brush over the dark curls, gathering the tiny droplets of moisture that have gathered on them. With eternal slowness, I draw my tongue along the crease, separating your woman lips, allowing me the taste of you. My body shudders in response. I feel your body match my shivers as I swirl my tongue along your opening, knowing what I do invades your privacy. I, your lover, violate you, while you sleep. But I cannot help myself. I cannot stop. My lips lock tightly around your wet opening as I suck the juices from your body, swallowing all that I can of you, feeling your soul push your body harder against my hungry mouth.  My tongue finds its way to the bud above this abundance of fluid. Its tiny knob hardens under the caress of my mouth. I tease it slowly, biting it gently, licking it, stroking it to marble hardness.   

             Hearing you moan deep in your sleep, I swirl my tongue harder on your clit, waiting for the shudder I know will come from you. I hear you moan at what disturbs your sleep, but I cannot stop. I am driven by the animal in me.  My own moaning begins deep in my chest as I feel myself reaching that peak of ecstasy.  I slip my left hand beneath my own gown, letting my fingers play gently in my own wetness, stirring my sensations.  The muscles of your thighs tighten as your sleep is interrupted by the waves of passion getting into your dreams. I feel your body convulse, bringing your orgasm closer. My own body follows and I sink my fingers deep inside me, driving the sensations to a peak. I reach with my other hand and push two fingers your wetness, feeling you tighten around them. I stroke them in and out of you, my hand drenched with your juices. Your body is mine for this moment in time. You cry out in your sleep.  My tongue moves on your clit, driving my passions to incredible heights.  

I keep my lips locked around your bud. Pulling at it with my tongue, I drive my fingers in and out of you, harder and harder, feeling your muscles tighten.  My other hand drives itself into my own body.  

I moan as you cry out your orgasm. 

My mouth fills with your fluids and I swallow your essence.  My own body shudders its orgasm as you push against my mouth. Wave after wave I coax from your darkest place, never letting my fingers falter in their rhythm as I guide you to the end of your wave. Your body shakes and stiffens against my mouth. 

A final shudder of pleasure and you are still.  Back to the dreams of a passionate woman.


copyright 2002 - V Drake

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Patchwork Merchant Mercenaries had its humble beginnings as an idea of a few artisans and craftsmen who enjoy performing with live steel fighting. As well as a patchwork quilt tent canvas. Most had prior military experience hence the name.


Patchwork Merchant Mercenaries.


Vendertainers that brought many things to a show and are know for helping out where ever they can.

As well as being a place where the older hand made items could be found made by them and enjoyed by all.

We expanded over the years to become well known at what we do. Now we represent over 100 artisans and craftsman that are well known in their venues and some just starting out. Some of their works have been premiered in TV, stage and movies on a regular basis.

Specializing in Medieval, Goth , Stage Film, BDFSM and Practitioner.

Patchwork Merchant Mercenaries a Dept of, Ask For IT was started by artists and former military veterans, and sword fighters, representing over 100 artisans, one who made his living traveling from fair to festival vending medieval wares. The majority of his customers are re-enactors, SCAdians and the like, looking to build their kit with period clothing, feast gear, adornments, etc.

Likewise, it is typical for these history-lovers to peruse the tent (aka mobile store front) and, upon finding something that pleases the eye, ask "Is this period?"

A deceitful query!! This is not a yes or no question. One must have a damn good understanding of European history (at least) from the fall of Rome to the mid-1600's to properly answer. Taking into account, also, the culture in which the querent is dressed is vitally important. You see, though it may be well within medieval period, it would be strange to see a Viking wearing a Caftan...or is it?

After a festival's time of answering weighty questions such as these, I'd sleep like a log! Only a mad man could possibly remember the place and time for each piece of kitchen ware, weaponry, cloth, and chain within a span of 1,000 years!! Surely there must be an easier way, a place where he could post all this knowledge...

Traveling Within The World is meant to be such a place. A place for all of these artists to keep in touch and directly interact with their fellow geeks and re-enactment hobbyists, their clientele.

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