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A fun anonymous monster commission! Not something I think I usually write, but it was a ball all the same! Tentacles await…

The taboo nature of Tucker’s evenings made them all the more tempting. There was something to sneaking under the shadows of the tall Georgia pines to the estuarine banks of the river still warm with the faded southern sun that only built his anticipation. His eagerness. That he should be so eager for the night ahead should have worried him, but somehow that worry made the thoughts and promises of the full moon’s light all the more exciting.

It had to be the full moon, when the tide downriver was high and she could come to him again. She, the arbiter of his desires, who appeared to him months ago while he fished under the cover of darkness. There were legends, for legends were as limitless as stars in the south, but of course he had not believed them until she appeared.

Three times, three full moons, before he convinced himself it was more than fantasy.

Yet, of course, this was a fantasy. It just wasn’t one he could have thought of by himself.

He had brought something for her this time, and would not bear to let himself think of it as foolish despite the prickle building in his skin as the river came into view. Under the moonlight, the river appeared as glass. He barely disturbed the sheen of its ripples even as he waded into them. Tucker turned back to the bank only once, realizing in his eagerness that he’d forgotten to remove his shoes, socks, and his clothes. He had simply gone without thought and stood now in the growing damp, cradled by the river. Waiting.

As so many things in dark water, he imagined her touch before he acknowledged it. It was easy to, when touch was all he really had. The shades of night obscured much, and it wasn’t until a cloud moved over the moon that he was certain the touch against his shins was insistent, and real.

He turned slowly in the waters, careful not to disturb the sense of eminent peace flowing through him and around him. Then the cloud moved, and he smiled.

She was still real, after all. Her touch, her smile as she emerged from the water, and her voice as silky and sweet as they swaying honeysuckle fronds on the bank were all real. She swirled before him in the water, golden eyes with wide pupils in a face of pale blue with black, damp hair hanging down into the water. Her teeth, when she smiled, were all sharp and needlelike. But her smile was not threatening. If anything, Tucker found it was the most tempting gesture he had ever seen.

“Hey there, Pinetree,” she said.

“H-Hi,” Tucker managed. He swallowed. “Hi, Pearl.”

Pearl giggled, and Tucker felt himself flush for just how much he enjoyed the noise. The had given each other the silly little nicknames on their second meeting. He had asked her then if she was a dream, and in response she had only asked him to tell her what a dream with her in it was like. She had always been too persuasive, too confident in herself. But that was what made her so endearing and so limitlessly, inescapably enthralling. By the end of his explanation, he had finally asked her name. She told him it was something he wouldn’t be able to pronounce, and he called her “Pearl.”

“Alright,” she concluded. “Pine for you, then.”

She learned his real name later that night, anyway, when she asked it so she could whisper it into his ear when at last he–

Tucker shook himself.

Pearl’s smile grew. “I was hoping you’d come back,” she said. “A month is a long time, and you never know with how dangerous life on land can be.” Pearl sighed and reclined in the water. Something tugged at Tucker’s ankles. “But here you are.”

“Here I am,” Tucker said. His mouth felt oddly dry then, and he could only stammer out his next point: “I-I brought you something.”

“Oh…” Pearl’s eyes sparkled. “Whatever for?”

“I saw it and thought of you,” Tucker said. “I’ve been saving it for you tonight.”

“What is it?”

“Ah-ah. Close your eyes.”

Pearl pouted, but closed her eyes all the same. She extended a hand towards him. Tucker examined her skin closely. The light blue of knee-deep seawater, paling to a kind of pristine sand-white underneath. Its touch was soft, softer than human skin, though her fingers held more force than he could ever imagine as she took the small, round object from him.

“Open your eyes,” Tucker said.

Pearl’s eyes snapped open and settled on the pearl Tucker had placed in her palm. Her smile grew wider then he thought possible, and she rushed to embrace him, giggling all the while.

Tucker fell backward and got drenched in the process. Pearl did not seem to care in the slightest, seemed intent only on burying him in kisses and wrapping him tight in her arms. They emerged a few moments later on the shore, Tucker panting with his nearly drowned breaths and Pearl gaping at her namesake now nestled between two fingers.

“It’s so thoughtful!” she said.

“I almost thought it was kinda dumb,” Tucker admitted, trying to wring out his shirt while kastamonu escort still wearing it. “Figure you could find them in the sea or whatever.”

“You ever try getting an oyster open? Not worth it even for us.” She set it gingerly on the sand between them and gazed deeply into Tucker’s eyes. “And from the land no less… you do know how to treat a lady.”

Tucker blushed and looked up into the night sky. The full moon slid by, the stars swirling endlessly around it.

“I like you something fierce,” he said. “I’m sorry I can’t see you more.”

“Now, now…” Pearl said. “None of that. I’ll take every moment we can share, precious as pearls.”

“Shucks,” Tucker said.

“That is how you open oysters, Pine,” Pearl said.

Tucker snorted, then let the laughter overtake him. Pearl laughed with him, the sound warm and comforting in the night air. When it died, something tugged on Tucker’s shorts. He looked down.

Pearl’s legs were not really legs, not in the sense of, say, human legs. She had far too many by a person’s reckoning–eight in fact–and they were nearly twice as long as Tucker was tall. They were flexible, and soft, covered underneath with never-ending rows of sensitive, probing suction cups that were themselves more deft and nimble than fingers. No less deft were the tips, prehensile and probing and always seeming to reveal Pearls’ endless curiosity about people, and Tucker in particular.

Not for nothing were those probing tips gingerly working their way up Tucker’s thigh and under the hem of his shorts.

His breath caught.

“I was thinking…” Peal purred, “about your dream.”

“Uh-huh,” Tucker coughed.

“I’m just worried you won’t be able to handle it.”

“I… uh. Well.” Tucker cleared his throat. “You want to?”

“Oh yes…” Pearl drew her ‘yes’ out into a hiss that sent shivers up Tucker’s spine. “There’s so much more I want to experience of you, Pine. You get so…” her tentacles worked further up, “wiggly. Loud, too. Lucky we’re alone.”

“Lucky, yeah…” Tucker’s throat tightened. “I uh… Yeah. Yes. If you’re sure.”

“You’ve given me a wonderful gift tonight, and I figure we should make the most of the time we do get together. Of course I’m sure. I’m as sure that you want me to take the lead on this?” She leaned in close, her breath tickling Tucker’s ear. “But, Piney, I think you need to help me with these… coverings.”

Tucker’s fingers had never worked so quickly, nor quite so deftly. He was out of his pants as though they burned him, and his shirt nearly as quick. The cool waters of the river swirled around his bare skin, as did the encroaching, sensuous evaluation offered by Pearl’s tentacle legs. She seemed as eager as she was hesitant, almost entranced by the sensations Tucker’s bare body offered her.

It would be unfair to say that Tucker was himself not lost in some kind of spell. There was that pervasive deftness to Pearl’s touch–a familiarity if not of form, than of desire. He gasped while the small cups on the undersides of her legs found his skin and worked slowly, almost like kisses, up his thighs and in between his legs. Two more found his shoulders and pressed harder, almost massaging him. He groaned, then hitched as the tips of them found his now exposed nipples. They held fast and sucked harder and yet somehow more delicately than any mouth. More knowing, and the humming laugh Pearl offered him told Tucker she knew far more than he. There was little he could do but lose himself in her grip and power, and that was something of the dream he had shared with her. The dream they shared.

Though, it was only something of the dream, and when Pearl’s tentacles reached the hem of Tucker’s rapidly tightening undergarments, they slowed.

“You want everything?” she asked.

Tucker flushed and closed his eyes. “Take me,” he said. “I want to be yours.”

“You are mine,” Pearl said. “Tell me again, Pine, at the end. Remind me always.”

“Always…” Tucker groaned.

It took Pearl barely any time at all to remove his underwear and free his throbbing cock. Her legs worked quickly to keep him hard, seizing him in a myriad tiny, forceful kisses unparalleled for their rapidity and precision. Tucker groaned as she engulfed him, overcoming everything he could offer her. Her legs around his shoulder swept down while the ones around his legs moved up and then he found himself helplessly, eternally cocooned by her touches, her kisses, her enthralling touch.

Pearl moved above him then, above him because he was laying down in the water and wrapped entirely in her embrace. She kissed him fully, needily, her mouth working groans from his throat while her legs raced over every inch of available skin. His entire body cried for her touch, longed for surrender to her, and her laugh upon his lips was all he knew he ever desired.

Then she moved aside, and Tucker found himself staring at a single, dripping, waiting tip of a tentacle before him.

She kissed his cheek kayseri escort while his lips parted.

Tucker nodded, ready, though he could not have imagined the bliss that followed.

She tasted of the sweet and salt of the sea mingled with the unique headiness offered by a body so willing to let itself be tasted. Their hesitancy mingled as Tucker took the appendage between his lips. He was as unfamiliar with the sensation as she–a single dalliance behind the neighbor’s barn once did not count so. Not when there was more and yet more of Pearl to give, to take, between his lips and down his throat. The kissing cups just past the tip held his tongue as powerfully as any human mouth and kept him hooked on sensation as Pearl pushed herself deeper and deeper into him yet.

“Breathe…” she whispered in his ear. Pearl nipped his lobe and giggled as Tucker writhed in her grip. “Through your nose, silly. Come now…”

Tucker wanted to mumble something about a poor choice of words but found himself unable to offer anything besides a moan of want. He wanted all of her, and she knew it, and she would give it to him. But how slowly this wish, this dream of something he never knew existed before meeting this wonderful, generous, domineering person. To lose oneself to willingly and completely was something almost beyond his dreams, and yet it was so perfectly aligned with them.

What Pearl offered melted his body and his mind. Tucker barely noticed as they washed onto the banks of the river together, and his body became her puppet. He sucked and sucked and dueled with the tentacle worming through his mouth as the others splayed him wide. Pearl spread his legs and arms and held him down everywhere at once. Her touches were around his cock, his hands and his feet, wrapping tight around anything that writhed and twitched. But she was not done with him yet. He had told her more, craved more, and she would take everything from him.

For he had offered, and she had known, and they were ready for wherever their passions led.

One of Pearl’s legs working his cock slid under, cupping his balls with its endless kisses while sliding behind and on. Were it not for the endless pleasures of the tentacle sliding about his mouth and down his throat, Tucker would have pleaded. He wanted to beg, to let her know how desperate he was to be taken by her. Through watering eyes, he saw that she knew. She watched him with unreserved lust, with endless passion. She kissed down his neck and his cheek while her legs and suckers worked his cock, his nipples, and over every possible inch of exposed skin, readying him for that which was to come.

The tip of that wandering tentacle found his asshole just as the leg in his mouth sucked his tongue too tight for him to do anything but offer a small, sibilant gasp. Something about Pearl’s skin made it perpetually lubricated, slippery and tactile in equal measure.

“Now, Pine,” she whispered. “Are you ready?”

Tucker did not know if he nodded, or if the tentacle half down his throat forced him too. But of course he was ready. He had been waiting for this since he first laid eyes on Pearl. She knew it, too, else she would not have giggled so and then thrown her arms around his shoulders.

“You’re ready for nothing,” she cooed in his ear. “Wait…”

She plunged into him from behind with an eagerness that left them both breathless. Pearl’s reach was so sublimely flexible and slick that Tucker could not help but instantly accept her presence inside him. That he was as much consumed by her as her by him meant little, and yet everything. He sucked ferociously against the kissing cups of the tentacle in his mouth barring him from screaming while the reaching leg between his cheeks probed deeper, and deeper still. There was no end to either end, no limit to the ways in which he found himself surrendering to Pearl’s advance. She kept him pinned, wrapped, smothered in a full-body embrace of kissing suction and commanding power as he could only accept the attention she gave in equal measure to his cock, his mouth, and his ass.

The multiarray of pleasure drove him senseless. Nowhere could he feel so complete as in Pearl’s embrace, for nowhere could Tucker be so fully embraced. There was not an inch of him forgotten, within or without, and therefore not a single piece of his mind not thoroughly lost in the ways Pearl gleefully, eagerly fucked him.

Yet still, she had not told him he was done. She had not commanded his release, and so he did not. Even in their earliest dalliances, he had told her this and given her this power over him. No mere trifle, but a sincere surrender from the start. Pearl knew this, and the sparkle in her eyes as she slid herself from his throat and loomed above him told Tucker that they were nowhere near done.

“You are?” she asked.

“Yours…” Tucker gasped.

“You cum for?”

“You…”

“Me…” Pearl trailed a finger down Tucker’s tear-streaked face. “My Pine… so tall and yet so…” Her kıbrıs escort legs pulled him farther apart, spreading him wider before her. “So flexible. Tell me what you want.”

“You.”

“What?”

“You!”

“Me…” Pearl’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”

“N-no!”

“No…”

She kissed him, her mouth on his. Her tongue was as skilled as the rest of her, her lips as commanding as the tentacles binding him to her. They shifted around him while she kissed him, bringing his arms and his legs together and moving to cocoon him from his ankles to his neck. One snapped tight around his neck, choking him while her kisses smothered him. Then they parted, removing attention from his cock while Pearl rose above him. She leaned out of her kiss and smiled widely at Tucker.

“I’m happy to share your dream,” she said. “What a cute little story… us. Pearl and Pine. Never forget it.”

“I could never forget you,” Tucker sighed.

“Never…” Pearl whispered. She mounted him. “Nor I, you.”

Something in the center of her swirling, binding legs pulled Tucker inside. Her natural slickness, the all-consuming way she could bind him to her and pull Tucker deeper and deeper while at the same time offering attention to his ass, his nipples, his neck with kisses from a million cups and from her careful, needy mouth, robbed him of any chance of resistance and thought. This was full submission to her, and it was everything he could have desired. There was no inch of skin she did not love, no breath or laugh or groan that did not bring her sublime pleasure. She rode him from above and gazed lovingly into his eyes while she kept him bound in loops and loops of herself.

As he inched nearer, the tip of one of her legs moved back before his lips. He took it willingly, sucked the slick and salty sweetness of her while she whispered into his ear and kissed down his neck. Deeper, she slid down his throat. Deeper, she pounded up into him. Deeper, she pulled with every inch of himself until he did not know where she began and he ended. But there was an ending coming, a great build, a sense of finality that would be more than he, or perhaps anyone, had ever experienced.

Then she spun, dragging him above and lifting the two of them up and over and around and around. The world swirled, Tucker’s mind sloshing in its pleasure. She spread him back out and lifted him off her, pulling herself from his mouth and rear. Tucker whined as he found himself airborne, above her, dripping sweat and precum and whatever natural lubrication her tender arms slathered him in. The breeze across his body, and the look Pearl fixed him with, sent shivers of desire through his entire being. His soul desired her, desired whatever she wanted of him.

“Breathe…” she teased. “I am nowhere near done with you yet.”

“P-please,” Tucker stuttered.

“Sh…” A tentacle tip pressed to Tucker’s lips to silence him, but pulled away too quickly for him to even kiss it. He licked his lips, tasting the memory of her. “Here… You want a taste?”

Tucker nodded helplessly.

She leaned back and worked his head to the center of her swirl of legs. There, glistening before Tucker’s eyes and watering mouth, was her. One leg snapped around Tucker’s neck, keeping his head primed for her. She pulled him near, half dragging him, readying him to pleasure her. And he did. He lapped eagerly, desperately, taking in her scent and taste while her legs worked around him once more. She pulled at his nipples and wrapped his cock firmly in her hundred-mouthed grip while he kissed and licked and sucked, pulling as many beautifully needy whispers from her and she delicious moans from him.

Pearl tightened around him as she neared climax, her want expressed in a full-body cocooned of sucking cups and sliding legs upon legs upon his body. Her breathing increased, the forced of her grips building, and Tucker’s tongue slid in and around her. Pearl’s squeal of pleasure was his world, for it coincided with her pulling him as deeply into her as she could, of a cocoon of pleasure felt over his entire body, of his joyous, eternal satisfaction and eliciting such sounds from this wonderful, limitless person.

Then she turned her attention to him. He was once more spread, once more beneath her, and the look in her eyes was all the deviousness he could have ever hoped to see. She giggled, and ever-so gently booped his nose with the tip of one of her legs.

“Fuck…” Tucker sighed, “…me…”

“Oh?” Pearl arched a brow. “What do we say?”

“Please…”

“Mhm.” She reached her arms for him. “Gladly.”

Pearl took him inside her with so much force that, were it not for how powerfully she kissed him, he would have screamed. The leg around his neck tightened, pushing Tucker to the limits of his breath in ways he could never hope to describe or remember. She controlled him, she decided the pace of this thrusts, the movement of his arms and legs. Every part of her was every part of him and it was immaculate bliss, limitless submission and rising, desperate potential. Around him was the slickness of her want, the sweetness and the salt, a hundred hungry mouths suckling his skin while his cock slid in and out of her. Together they moaned and whispered and gasped into each other’s mouths until, with a great heave and something so beautifully a whimpered memory of her name, Tucker came.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bo�altmam� ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bo�altmam� ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Tara is the first in a series of origin stories for characters or events that will take place in my new series the Bloom Chronicles. The origin stories tend to be a little spicier than the novels, but far shorter and open-ended. Keep that in mind and enjoy this for what it is! If you want more, reach out and let me know!

“Hey Tara,” the reddish brown skinned Bregan said as she walked out of the shared bathroom toward her built-in closet wearing nothing but a smile. She looked at the human leaning in to the display on her desk. “Seriously, are you studying again?”

“Hey Chelz,” Tara said and turned, her mouth opening to yawn. She clamped it shut as she took in the woman’s slender physique and she blushed. “Studying you now though, if that counts. I can make a case study for practical xenobiology.”

The Bregan laughed. “It does! Well, you’re xenobiology to me and I am to you. I was going to start getting ready for that get-together but we could be late.”

“Oh! Is it almost time for that?”

The Bregan put a hand on her bony hip. “I told you that when I hit the shower, or don’t you remember?”

“No, I remember,” Tara lied. “I just… this is my first dissertation for my doctoral. The established interfaces have terrible efficiencies and I need to find a better—”

“Yawn,” Chelzee teased her. “Come on, baby, put it aside, just for tonight.”

Tara nodded and stood up. “Maybe a little break would be nice.”

Chelzee slipped into her arms and kissed her. “Mmm, you’re so soft,” the Bregan said.

“And you’re hard,” Tara said. “Or at least bony.”

Chelzee smiled and kissed her again. “You really know how to get a girl going.”

Tara laughed. “Sorry, but calling me soft just reminds me I’m fat.”

“You are not fat!” Chelzee insisted. “You can’t compare yourself to me, baby. My people are skinny and bony. You’re aren’t. You’re beautiful!”

Tara blushed. “I’d still like to drop ten kilos.”

“You’d be skinnier than me!”

Tara snorted. “Hardly.”

“Let me show you something,” Chelzee said and lifted her chin while wrapping her arms around Tara’s neck.

Tara let her girlfriend pull her in closer. “What?” she asked before Chelzee kissed her harder. Tara let a moan escape her lips and Chelzee slipped her long and slender tongue in to her mouth. When the Bregan broke the kiss Tara was panting.

“I’m going to show you how much I love your body so that maybe you’ll learn to start loving yourself.”

Tara could still taste the musty spice of Chelzee’s tongue. “Uh huh,” she said. “I’m willing to let you try.”

Chelzee grinned and twisted the woman around so she could walk her back to the beds they’d pushed together in the center of the wall. Tara yelped as she fell and then hit the bedding. Chelzee grinned and bent over her, tugging her loose fitting pants down her legs and tossing them on the floor. She licked her lips as she stared at the underwear stretched across Tara’s sex and then reached for those as well.

“Oh god,” Tara groaned as Chelzee tugged her underwear down and left her exposed.

Chelzee’s thin nostrils flared as she inhaled Tara’s scent. “You smell so good,” the Bregan growled. “You should make a perfume of your scent.”

“Gross!” Tara blushed.

“No, divine! Kerdin herself would be tempted by you,” Chelzee said.

Tara laughed. “I’m pretty sure the archangel of your goddess has better things to do than having sex with non-Bregans.”

“Tolerance and inclusion is taught from the earliest of ages,” Chelzee said. She lifted Tara’s legs into the air and bent them back at the hips. She kissed along her left inner thigh and then moved to gently nibble with her large teeth on Tara’s left leg.

Tara gasped and growled.

Chelzee grinned and dragged her teeth up Chelzee’s leg. She paused long enough to kiss the blond curls and bury her rigid nose in Tara’s hair and inhale her scent. She shuddered and then made sure Tara’s legs rested on her shoulders as she opened her mouth wide and began to gently maul the woman’s sex.

Tara cried out as the Bregan’s teeth mashed her folds and gently crushed her in all the right places. Then Chelzee’s tongue began to lick up and down her slit, tasting and then gathering her wetness. Not satisfied, Chelzee worked her tongue down to the Tara’s entrance and slipped the agile muscle inside of her.

Tara let out a low and steady moan. Her eyelids fluttered as her girlfriend tickled all the right places inside of her. She bent her back to push her pussy up into Chelzee’s mouth, silently begging the woman for more. “Too hot,” Tara mumbled and somehow managed to tug her loose-fitting shirt up and off her body.

Chelzee was only too happy to oblige. She tilted her face forward and mashed the bony ridge of her nose into the top of Tara’s slit. This time Tara bucked. Chelzee’s tongue slithered inside of her while her nose mashed Tara’s clit and accelerated the woman into a breathless climax faster than the strongest plasma engine.

Chelzee üsküdar escort spared the gasping human when her body started to jerk with overstimulation. She tilted her head back and withdrew her tongue, but only far enough so she lick the woman’s juices as they ran from her tingling hole.

“Oh… oh Chelz… oh sweet Chelz!”

Chelzee looked up over Tara’s body and through the steep valley of the young woman’s breasts. Tara’s face was flushed and she was panting for air. Chelzee grinned and, with a last lingering lick, she crawled up her lover’s body and began to kiss her.

Tara tried to push her but not only was Chelzee strong for her petite size, but she had the leverage she needed. As Tara’s thigh rose to plant her foot against the bed Chelzee trapped it between her legs and began to rub herself on it.

“I want—” Tara mumbled into Chelzee’s mouth.

Chelzee growled a response and rubbed her sex against her lover harder and faster while she swallowed her protests and kept Tara’s tongue tied up with her own. In no time Chelzee was panting hard through her nose and then she began to let out a trilling wail that signaled her release. Tara’s leg grew wetter by the second.

“You’re amazing,” Tara whispered in her girlfriend’s ear when the woman slowed and then relaxed on top of her. “Let’s just stay here and do this all night.”

Chelzee lifted her head and smiled at the cute blond and gave her a quick lick across the lips. “How about we go out and then come back for an encore?”

Tara pouted. “Chelz, can’t we just—”

Chelzee licked her again, distracting her. She grinned and lifted herself off of Tara’s leg so she could slide down her body. She took a detour past Tara’s still weeping sex and inhaled as deeply as she could. Tara’s breath caught in her throat. Was she going to give in to her?

Chelzee turned her attention to Tara’s glistening leg. She attacked it, sliding her tongue and lips along the pale flesh and savored the flavor of Tara’s flesh and her own wetness.

Tara gasped and reached up to grab her breast. She pinched her nipple and twisted it, sending a bolt of lightning through her belly to her steaming sex.

Chelzee lifted herself up and straightened. “Come with me, baby,” Chelzee said. “Come and dance with me.”

Tara’s libido crashed. She let go of her boob and stared at her girlfriend. “You’re still going?”

“Come on, baby. We’re only young once! Let’s have fun before we can’t anymore. I’ve only got two terms left until I finish my degree. Then I have to find a good adult job or go back to my people. I want to live before I have to be responsible and I’m expected to settle down.”

Tara snorted. “I thought Bregans considered their own genders as pleasure and the opposite gender as only good for reproduction? Even after they take a partner.”

“Well, yes, but that would still have me back with my people.”

Tara sat up and reached for her shirt. “Go ahead, Chelz. I feel like I’m so close to having this figured out. If I can it will be a bit leap in understanding how we can improve the merging of biological systems and the machines meant to interface with them.”

Chelzee rolled her eyes. “Are you sure?”

Tara nodded and grabbed her underwear and pants.

Chelzee darted over and kissed her again. “All right… don’t stay up though, okay?”

Tara sighed. “Wouldn’t be the first time you found me asleep on my desk.”

Chelzee smiled and shook her head. “You’re already amazing, you know. Some day though, you’re going to change the universe! I don’t know anyone so driven and smart as you… and you’re human too! Who knew?”

“Hey!” Tara protested.

Chelzee grinned and blew her another kiss before bouncing over to her closet built into the wall of their shared apartment and opening it up to look for the right clothes to wear out.

Tara watched her for a moment and even offered some opinions before being drawn back to her terminal. She soon was lost in the work as she began cycling through different studies and tried to pull bits and pieces together to support her theory.

When Tara’s stomach rumbled she looked up and found herself alone in the tiny apartment. Chelzee had kissed her on the cheek on her way out… she remembered that much. She stretched and realized four hours had passed. She had a good reason to be hungry!

She stretched and stood up. There was no food in their apartment. Or at least nothing she wanted. Chelz was a vegetarian, like all Bregans, and Tara never had time to stock up on food or make it. Besides, there were food vendors all over the place, even a small food court down the hall she lived on.

Her stomach chose that moment to remind her thinking about food wasn’t the same as eating food. She sighed and looked down at herself. Could she go out in a ratty shirt and threadbare sweatpants? Maybe…

She glanced at the built-in closet she and Chelzee shared. Yeah, she should gaziemir escort get dressed. She kept hitting dead ends in her research, a little break might be good. In fact, maybe she should go to the club Chelz had wanted her to go to. They served food there. Good food too, she’d been there once or twice. Some tasty drinks, which she shouldn’t get. A miner’s slurry had enough calories for a full day… but they were sooo good!

Tara sighed and went to the closet. She didn’t have much for clubbing— anything really… at least nothing that fit. A few smaller outfits that she’d outgrown. It almost wasn’t worth bothering until she remembered Chelz would be so happy to see her. Tara dug in and fought past her insecurities. She was going and she was going to look good for Chelzee. Or as good as she could look.

Forty minutes later Tara was imprisoned in a dress that didn’t fit her anymore. She walked into the club, Reactor, and was hit instantly by the throbbing music as soon as she passed through the noise deadening field at the entrance. Tara paused a moment to adjust and realized there was no adjusting to it. The music, the lights, the entire atmosphere was more than just loud, it was a physical pressure hitting her from all directions. She made her way past the entryway and over to the bar. She needed a drink if she was going to spend a significant amount of time here!

One miner’s slurry in hand from the automated drink station and she turned and took a sip. It was good. Darn good! She drank more, swallowing the creamy chocolate and alcohol infused beverage until it was half gone. She panted and shivered as the almost frozen drink chilled her core.

“Okay,” Tara said out loud. She was talking to herself but it didn’t matter, no one would hear her anyhow. “Now where’s she at?”

She sipped more of her drink and moved away from the bar and looked for a table. Yeah, that was a waste of time. The place was packed, which wasn’t surprising for a Thirdday night. The first crew of the galactic standard six day week was finished and had three days off now. What better way to spend it than partying?

Tara took a step and raised her hand, only to drop it a second later. That wasn’t her Bregan. Whoever the woman was wearing a similar outfit to Chelzee, between the temporary paint and matching purple and red colors of her top, but it was clearly someone else. Tara sighed and took another drink.

She kept looking, changing positions a few times to look onto the writhing mass of people on the dance floor. Most of them were humans rubbing up against one another, but there was no shortage of Bregans, they were just harder to see because they were shorter. The Zendari on the station, however, looked like mountains among the hills. They were a head taller than almost anyone else.

Tara’s straw sucked air. She looked down and frowned. Her drink was gone. She started to turn to get another when she caught a flash of red and purple. She snapped back and stared, a smile lifting her lips. There she was, dancing and twisting and… and…

Tara set her empty drink down on the railing that separated the dance floor from the small tables near the bar. Her hands went to the bar and gripped it, hard. Chelzee wasn’t dancing, she was having sex. Sure, she was standing up, sort of. Clinging to a mountain of a Zendari woman and grinding her pussy against the Zendari’s leg just like she’d done to Tara a few hours ago. That they had some clothes on didn’t matter, Tara knew Chelz loved getting off like that. She loved riding Tara’s leg even more than letting Tara user her fingers or—

Wait a darn minute! She was Tara’s girlfriend! They lived together! What was she doing with someone else? How dare that woman put the moves on her girlfriend!

Tara was marching onto the dance floor and pushing people out of the way as much as she was working her way through them. She forced a small bubble around her as people began to realize she was there. She stopped with a meter between her and her girlfriend. The Zendari woman saw her first.

She stopped swaying to the music and grinding herself against Chelzee. It took Chelzee a few seconds to realize she’d stopped and then she looked up, a dreamy smile on her face and sweat glistening on her ridges. She saw the Zendarian looking over her head, behind her, and turned.

Chelzee’s grin didn’t fade, it grew bigger. She threw her sweaty arms out and wrapped them around Tara before the hurt and stunned woman could react. “Baby, you made it!” Chelzee squealed in her ear.

Tara remained frozen long enough for Chelzee to pull back and look at her. Her bony brows crinkled her skin when they scrunched into a confused look. “What?” she said almost loud enough to hear. Tara read her lips but she could only shake her head and turn away.

Chelzee grabbed her arm and tried to pull her back. Tara pulled harder, slipping free from the woman’s sweaty grip. She pushed her sancaktepe escort way off the dance floor and stormed out of the club. When she hit the sound deadening field she stumbled and then lurched back to her feet in the cooler corridor just in time to nearly run into a beautiful brown haired woman.

Tara jumped back just as the pink haired woman on the far side of the one she’d almost taken out took a step forward and reached out. “Sorry,” Tara mumbled and turned away.

Her eyes were burning and her chest was tight. The woman said something but Tara missed it. She looked up and watched them walk away. She was as skinny as Chelzee but shorter. She was also missing a her left arm other than a bandage covered stub below her elbow. A recent injury, maybe? Why didn’t she have a prosthetic or a vatjob arm grown and transplanted?

If she needed a prosthetic maybe Tara could—

“Tara! Baby! What’s wrong?”

Tara spun around as Chelzee came rushing out of the club to her. She was breathless and flushed. Her flush was due to a lot more than just exercise too.

“What’s wrong?” Tara sputtered.

“Yeah, I was dancing with Domina, so what?”

“Dancing?” Tara asked.

“Yeah… why?”

“So were you dancing with me earlier?” Tara snapped.

Chelzee opened and shut her mouth. She shook her head and said, “Look, baby, you know that was special. We have a lot of fun together. We get along… we’re good, right?”

“We’re good? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I like you, Tara. I’m comfortable with you and you beautiful and you know how to handle me and you taste and smell sooo good.”

Tara stared at her. “That’s it?”

Chelzee blinked. “That’s a lot! Tara, come on, don’t make this more than it is. So I was dancing and maybe I had a little fun… who cares? This is our time to live and try things!”

Tara shook her head. “I… can’t.”

“You can’t? You can’t what? Tara… come on, you know this isn’t going to last between us, right? I mean, I care about you— I really do— but you’re going to end up in some giant company curing viruses or mapping out strange xeno genomes or building the next generation biotech interfaces. If I’m lucky I’ll end up either trying to sell spaceships or solar bays or some nonsense for a few years to prove my worth. Sooner or later I’ll be pulled back to my home world so I can use my education and experience to further my family while I have a suitable partner chosen for me to continue our family lines.”

Tara stared at her. “Are you.. Chelz… no, you don’t want that, do you?”

She shrugged. “That is the Bregan way. It’s what it is. I’ll make the best of it, but that’s what my life has always been leading to. I get one shot, Tara. If I fail, I go home and have to hope that my family’s worth alone will merit me a decent match… Even that’s not truly a failure, I suppose, it just gives me fewer options and less say in who I may choose and what I might do. It sounds harsh to outsider, I know, but it is our way. Our families have to continue and I’ll have a good life regardless. It just won’t be like this… here I’m so free. I can do anything!”

“Or anyone?” Tara muttered.

Chelzee sighed. “Baby, don’t be like that. You’re human, I’m Bregan. It never lasts. I don’t know any inter-species relationships that last.”

“So the Zendari?”

Chelzee waved her hand. “You know I love big, strong women. They get me so hot. I’d never been with a Zendari, you were my biggest so far.”

“And now I’m big, great,” Tara said.

“Bigger than me, baby,” Chelzee said with a grin. Her grin faded when she saw the tears finally spilling down Tara’s cheeks. “Oh… oh Tara, it’s not a bad thing! You’re so beautiful, baby, don’t ever think I’m making fun of you! You shouldn’t want to be skinny like I am. You look amazing and you’re well within healthy metrics for your species. And your breasts, Kerdin herself would nurse at those if she could!”

Tara winced at Chelzee’s awkward choice of words. Sometimes the Bregan got so caught up she didn’t think about what she was saying when she translated it into the galactic standard language. Then again, she obviously didn’t think about a lot more than just her words before they went from thoughts to actions.

Tara wiped her cheeks and shook her head. “You’re wrong, Chelzee.”

Chelzee frowned. “Wrong? About what?”

“About us. About me. I could have made it work. We could have.”

“Oh,” Chelzee said. “I mean, maybe for a little while, but after I graduate…”

“I’d have gone with you,” Tara said. “I can work anywhere.”

Chelzee winced. “I don’t know if that would work. The people of Brega are tolerant, but nobody’s ever done anything like that… I mean, other species visit and some even live there, but you and I… I mean, I’d have a partner so we’d only be, you know, consorts.”

Tara wiped another tear. “I could have done it. You couldn’t— can’t. You can’t.”

“Baby, it’s just not that easy!”

“It is… if you loved me the way I love you,” Tara managed to say.

Chelzee froze. She stared at her and then swallowed. “You love me?”

Tara didn’t hesitate before nodding. “I did. Do. I do.”

“Oh Tara… I didn’t… I didn’t know. I never realized… I thought…”

Tara swallowed a sob and then turned and took off at a run.

* * * *

Ben Esra telefonda seni bo�altmam� ister misin?
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Ben Esra telefonda seni bo�altmam� ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

The scraping sound of a blade on a whetstone always put me at ease, the sharpening of my weapons had become an important daily ritual for me. My mother had always told me that a dull knife wouldn’t cut even the softest purse and she took extra care to teach me how to maintain my blades when I was just a boy. I could still hear her voice, “Gilbert,” she would tell me, “keep your eyes sharp and your daggers sharper. You never know when some fat merchant with more gold than he needs is going to take a wrong turn and give us an opportunity.” Every morning now, I would maintain my weapons with the old whetstone she had given me, clear my head and enjoy the few precious happy memories I had of my mother.

Sometimes the bad memories would start to rear their ugly heads, unwanted flashes of what had happened forcing their way into my thoughts. I always took that as a signal to get on with the day, focus my mind on something more productive. Nowadays, something productive meant leaving my camp in the woods and heading to the road. I stood from the stump I was using as a rough stool and tucked my now razor sharp daggers away before grabbing my shortsword and setting off in the direction of the dirt track that connected the province’s villages to the nearby city.

My well honed bandit senses had selected a good spot on the road, far enough away from the city of Helmstadt to avoid any serious guard patrols, but close enough to sometimes catch more lucrative prey like merchants or even minor nobles. Most of the time though, I would just catch poor peasants and farmers. They were easy to intimidate, but you could never take more than just a small percentage of their crop. Impoverished stick farmers don’t have much to spare and if you take too much they’ll be forced to choose between fighting or starvation and even the lowliest serf is dangerous when he’s desperate.

Not to mention it was the mark of a good shepherd to shear his sheep, not slaughter them. An ugly low chuckle slipped from my lips. Nobles really weren’t so different from a highwayman like me. We both coerced the poor and weak into sharing the fruits of their labors, I was just more honest about my robbery. Before long I had reached my current favorite spot. There was a huge old oak that sat right next to the road, its long limbs casting the immediate vicinity into dark shade and its thick trunk providing an excellent ambush location.

Taking position behind the old tree and hiding in its shade, I settled in to wait like a spider for whatever poor fly was next to come down my section of the road. Within an hour, I could see a single man leading an old draft horse down the road, a simple wooden cart hitched to the trotting workhorse. Just what I was waiting for. When the man came close enough, I drew my shortsword and slipped out from behind the trunk and caught him by surprise.

“There’s a toll for passing through here friend.” I growled, brandishing my sword and advancing on the man with deliberate steps.

“Please, don’t hurt me!” The peasant stammered, clearly unarmed and unprepared to deal with an armed criminal. “I don’t have anything valuable, just some vegetables and fruits!”

“Well then,” I commanded, “kneel there and don’t move. We’ll see what you can afford to part with.” Years of shaking people down had given me the ability to quickly assess what cargo people had and what valuables they might be hiding. The trembling farmer was indeed hauling produce, likely to the market in town. He had ten good sized baskets of various fruits and vegetables so I took one from his cart and set it on the side of the road, then made my way over to him. A dagger on his neck kept him compliant while I searched his pockets and the satchel he had slung over his shoulder.

Luckily for me, I found the silver necklace he had wrapped in a cloth and stuffed in his satchel. He whimpered as he watched me examine it, obviously it held some significance to him. It was a simple thing, a basic silver pendant on a chain, but it would have been quite valuable for just a farmer. “Where did you get this?” I pressed the distraught peasant.

“It was a gift!” He blubbered. “The lord gave it to me when I helped his son in a hunt. Oh please have mercy sir, I was going to give that to my wife!”

“You’re lucky she isn’t with you,” I snarled, “or I would have taken her instead.” The man fought back tears as I pocketed the necklace and went to retrieve the basket I had left on the road. “Looks like you’ve paid the fine. Now get lost.” The man hopped up and continued to lead his horse and cart down the road, fearfully glancing over his shoulder at me as he moved further and further away before disappearing around a bend in the path.

With my ill-gotten goods in hand I set off back to my camp, eager to disappear into the woods in case the farmer reported the incident and some novice guard was sent to poke around for a bit as a token response. Dinner that night was quite a bit better than batman escort usual, the fresh vegetables making for a rather nice stew. With my belly full and the day’s larceny done, I lounged near the small campfire I kept and relaxed, idly pulling out the necklace I had liberated from the poor peasant.

For a rather simple piece of jewelry, it was still quite beautiful. A silver chain with a matching silver heart functioning as a pendant. My mind wandered and I could picture the farmer’s wife that he had meant to give the necklace to. She would be a comely woman, her body healthy from working the fields and nicely filled out from enjoying the bountiful harvests. The farmer would give her the pendant and she would wear it proudly, showing off the rare sign of wealth to the other women and displaying her generous cleavage in the process.

I snapped out of my daydream and sighed heavily, cursing my luck. The necklace was nice, but if I had been truly lucky, I would have got my hands on that farmer’s wife! My cock twitched at the thought of the things I would do to her and my body yearned for the soft touch of a nubile woman. Someone to tidy the camp and cook the food I stole, someone to sleep with during the cold nights and talk to when the woods became silent and foreboding.

Life had been lonely since I lost my mother. She had been the only person in my life that I trusted, the only person that looked out for me and cared about my health. She had raised me in the poor part of the city, stealing and cheating and lying just to keep us fed. She was my guardian and my tutor, teaching me the art of pick-pocketing and how to handle a dagger from a very young age. When she was taken from me, I learned that the world was a cruel place, where the powerful abused the weak and only those willing to fight dirty survived.

Gradually I became conscious of the foul mood I had worked myself into and I went to my stump, producing the weathered old whetstone that was the only thing of my mother’s that I had left. The bad thoughts were chased away as I poured my focus into the activity and organized my mental state. Eventually I managed to quiet my mind and I turned in for the night, wrapping up in the animal skins that rested on my bedroll.

Morning came and I went through my daily routine and chores, gathering firewood and water, eating breakfast and of course, sharpening my weapons. With the daily tasks done and my camp meticulously managed, I set off once again to the road, moving extra cautiously to see if any guards had come to chase me from my hunting ground. No one but the old oak greeted me when I arrived, the farmer either hadn’t told anyone or more likely, the city guard was simply too busy or too incompetent to care.

Nibbling on some of the leftover stolen fruit, I huddled up with the old oak once more, waiting to see what fish I would catch today. Two or three hours later I could hear many feet marching and the clanking of metal arms and armor. Hastily I retreated into the woods, finding a more secluded hiding spot to watch the road from. Soon a troop of around a dozen soldiers marched down the road, serious looking halberds held high in their hands and heavy armor jostling as they went. Behind them a regal looking man on an armored warhorse followed along, the arrogance of a noble practically oozing from his pores.

Unconsciously my hand gripped a dagger, an impulse to kill the regal bastard flitting through my head before I quashed it. There was no way I could face off against a dozen royal soldiers and live. Patiently, I waited for the procession to pass, only relaxing when the sound of heavy boots faded away. I scowled as I looked down the way they had went, spitting on the ground for good measure. I hated nobles. Nobles thought they were better than everyone, thinking they had the moral high ground when they were just thieves and crooks like the rest of us. Nobles took more than the poor could give, nobles kicked people while they were down, nobles killed my-

Shaking my head, I collected myself. No good worrying about the past, I couldn’t change it. I went back to the old oak and settled down, hoping less tenacious prey would come down the road. Sadly nothing did and when evening started to fade to night, I went back to the camp empty-handed. Such an outcome wasn’t uncommon, so the little setback didn’t bother me much, there was always tomorrow after all.

The next day I was back at the old oak, watching and waiting like always. Now a smart and energetic guard captain would notice that I was a creature of habit and have a trap waiting for me, but in all my years living in these woods, I had never seen much of a response from the city. My guess is that my thefts and robberies were small-time enough that they simply didn’t think I was worth catching, which suited me just fine. Lost in thought, I almost didn’t notice the horse and cart approaching, the yalova escort clopping of the horse’s hooves alerting me. When the cart came closer, I recognized the man driving it and stepped out from my hiding spot, raising an arm in greeting.

“Good morning Alberic!” I called out.

“Morning, Gilbert.” Alberic replied, the merchant stopping his cart and hopping off. The cool and collected man fetched a small sack from his cart and handed it to me, the glass bottles within softly chiming as they were jostled about. Alberic had come down my road many times and after robbing him over and over, we had finally grown so used to each other that we sat down and hashed out an agreement. Alberic would bring me whatever sort of payment he could when he made a trip to the city and I would keep the road clear of any other thieves or brigands as well as sell him not-so-legal goods at an excellent price. Additionally, I would sometimes help protect his wares in town when the gangs were getting especially uppity and the city guard refused to lend him a hand.

We certainly weren’t friends, but I’d like to think we had established a mutually beneficial relationship as well as a bit of professional respect for each other. Knowing a merchant that was willing to trade with a bandit was very useful as well. Today Alberic had brought me a few bottles of decent wine, an excellent payment in my eyes.

“Great stuff as always Alberic, thank you. Have you seen any sign of other bandits on the road, or do you need any help at the market?”

“No Gilbert, the road is clear of any foul brigands, with the exception of you of course.” We both chuckled at that, one of our favorite little jokes. “The gangs in town have been quiet lately so I’ll be fine in the market. Do you have anything you want to sell or buy?”

“No, pickings have been pretty slim recently. Just peasants and serfs like always. You know, yesterday I did see a pompous ass riding by with a small army, but there was no way I’d be able to make any profit from him.” Recognition showed on Alberic’s face and he piped up.

“That would be the Baron Eadgar, ruler of Helmstadt, certainly not a man to cross. You were smart to hide from him, his attention would be nothing but trouble.” Bitterness crept into my voice and I spat on the ground to show my distaste for the nobleman.

“I’ve had first-hand experience of what happens to those that upset a major member of the nobility.” Alberic nodded solemnly and even patted me on the shoulder for a moment. He had heard my story and knew what had happened to my mother and why I made my living out in the woods as a highwayman.

“Well, if you’re lucky maybe some lesser blue-blood will stumble into your web and you can sell me their fancy jewels and frilly clothes.” We laughed again and I chatted with him for a time, even sharing some of the wine that he had given me. The chance to talk with someone without worrying about a blade in the back was a rare treat and I made sure to enjoy it to the fullest. With our business conducted though, we both had our duties to return to and my merchant acquaintance waved goodbye as he rode off to the nearby city of Helmstadt.

I returned to the old oak and decided to hurry up and wait, hoping that Alberic was right and an unimportant aristocrat would wander into my greedy hands. Time crawled by and just before I was about to give up and head back to camp, the sound of a horse and carriage piqued my interest. Well groomed and healthy looking, a single horse pulled a small coach and a weary looking guard was trudging along beside it.

With any luck, Alberic would be right and some fool blue-blood had just walked right into my hands. Biding my time like a prowling wildcat, I waited for the guard to draw close to my hiding spot before I leapt out and threw a dagger at the unsuspecting soldier. The short blade ricocheted off his weathered breastplate, but he was so shocked by the sudden attack that he was still fumbling for his longsword when I closed the distance and dispatched him with a slash to his unprotected throat.

Leaving the unfortunate guard to bleed out on the road, I rushed to the over to the carriage and wrenched open its door, eager to get a look at whatever or whoever the vehicle was carrying. The interior was lavish and well decorated, expensive curtains lining the walls and fancy filigree making it clear that this was indeed a noble’s coach. Seated in one of the luxurious seats was a regal woman, a look of alarm and concern evident on her features.

“Who are you!” She spat, disdain creeping into her voice despite the possible danger. “Where is my servant? Sergeant Gerard, remove this man!”

“Your guard is dead in the road.” I coldly informed her as I brandished my bloodied shortsword. “Now do what I tell you or you’ll be joining him.” The noblewoman grew indignant, the gravity of the situation obviously still not clear to her.

“You dare threaten a ordu escort noble, peasant? I’ll have you flogged and then hanged and then I’ll have your family thrown in a dungeon! Do you hear me, you foul pig? You’ll learn your place!” The harsh words hit me harder than I expected, they sounded an awful lot like something I’d heard before, back when I lost my mother.

Years ago when I was just a teenager, my mother and I were celebrating our good fortune. We had scammed a particularly naive merchant into paying a huge sum for a fake jewel. The run down shack in the dilapidated slums that we lived in was our little haven, a place where the cruel world couldn’t get its wicked talons on us. We had just finished purchasing a feast with the gold we had earned when the door was slammed open and an arrogant royal marched in with the merchant we had scammed.

Apparently that jewel was meant for the angry nobleman and the merchant had paid some locals to tell him where my mother and I lived. The two men demanded the merchant’s money back but their demands turned to insults when we explained we had already spent it on food. The aristocrat was the worst, calling us filthy rats that lived on the refuse of our superiors, threatening to torture us, hang us if we didn’t produce the money he wanted.

When it was obvious that we had no hidden cache of gold to give them, the nobleman lost his temper and flew into a rage, moving to strike me with the back of his hand. My mother gave him a right hook to the face and shouted at me to run while he was dazed, to get away and never look back. With frightening speed the noble recovered and drew his sword before running my mother through, killing her on the spot. Stunned, I watched him kick her corpse away before he turned to me, his eyes filled only with anger and hate.

I turned and fled from the run-down shack, weaving through alleys and struggling to breathe as ragged sobs racked my chest. All I had on me was my clothing and the whetstone my mother had given me to always keep my daggers sharp. Luck was with me and I escaped the city, fleeing into the wilderness and leaving the wrath of the noble and the merchant behind. Years passed and though I had survived by stealing and robbing on the road, the loss of my mother never really healed.

“Can you hear me you ignorant oaf?” The noblewoman in the carriage snapped me back to the present with her sharp tongue, her harsh words and arrogant demeanor reminding me of the bastard that took away the only family I had.

“Shut up.” I growled as I gave her a solid backhand and grabbed her by the hair and threw her out of the coach into the road. Her offended protests stopped when I crouched over her and pressed a dagger to her throat, her eyes desperately flitting between me and the dead bodyguard crumpled nearby. “You nobles think you’re so much better than everyone when you’re nothing but self-righteous dogs. All piss and vinegar when you think your guards are around, but suddenly you have nothing to say when a blade’s at your throat.”

The frightened woman said nothing, her face etched with terror, her eyes wide with shock. “I should kill you right here and now, be as uncaring about your life as you are with all the people you lord over.” I looked her over as I talked, getting a better look at her now that I had pulled her out of the shaded carriage. Her skin was pale and soft from a life free of hardships and she wore a beautiful bright red dress that clung tightly to her enticing curves, leaving little to the imagination. She was curvy in all the right places, her wide hips supporting a prodigious rear and her gigantic breasts barely held in check by her fancy clothing.

She had a beautiful face, expensive makeup and easy living doing much to hide her years so I could only roughly estimate her to be in her late twenties or early thirties. Her hair was a dark raven black, the silky smooth strands flowed down her back to just past her shoulders. Jewelry seemed to dangle off of her like fruit off a tree, bracelets and necklaces and even a tiara in her hair. Just the things she wore were worth more money than I had seen in years!

Thinking on my feet, I pulled out a length of rope that I kept handy as well as a strip of cloth that I usually saved for bandages. I gagged her with the cloth, forcing it in her mouth then tying it behind her head to keep it secured. With the rope I bound her hands and ankles, leaving her unable to move, lying on the road. “Scream or struggle and I won’t hesitate to cut your throat.” I threatened my new captive, venom tinging my voice. “Behave and I might let you live, though blue-blood scum like you deserve nothing but a knife in the gut.”

The noblewoman’s terrified eyes told me there was a good chance she would do as I told her so I set to work on ransacking the cart, taking whatever valuables I could get my hands on. The many fine fabrics that made up the cart’s interior were stripped away and my lucky streak continued when I found a small pouch filled with coin hidden in one of the seats. With the cart properly pillaged, I loaded up the booty on the horse that pulled the carriage and took a moment to decide what to do with the captive lady, after plucking all the precious adornments from her of course.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bo�altmam� ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bo�altmam� ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Author’s Note: This will get violent again, but the violence will not be sexual. Also, I recently submitted a story in which I noted that I was still working on this one, but I don’t know when or if it will be approved of and published. So, if you read that one, and get confused when you see that this last chapter here is already done, then at least you’ll know why.

******

Some time ago, while giving a motherly lecture to her sons, Danetta had said, “If you were to wander in the wilderness, and you found a delicate little music box that worked exactly as one should, you’d know the music box was created by an intelligent designer because it’s so complex. Therefore, one should look around at this beautiful world and assume that because it’s so complex it must have had an intelligent designer. Don’t ever be so arrogant as to assume there are no gods. The evidence is right here.”

Erdgar had overheard this, but he didn’t say anything. At the time, he didn’t have his thoughts completely sewed together. He had been a bit high too. Besides, he didn’t want to weaken the words of his children’s mother. It wouldn’t do at all to have his boys rebel against her.

Over time, though, Erdgar believed he had created an adequate thought or two concerning his beloved wife’s statements.

On a morning covered with melting snow, as Erdgar and Andreo were slowly driving their horses through the woods and towards the castle, the master of the estate decided to place his thoughts before the eldest child.

“Little Button?”

A pause. Then the boy nodded down at his hands.

“Are you listening to me?”

Another pause. Then the boy gave a soft, “Mmm hmmm.”

Erdgar sighed and looked back a moment, noting the sloppy prints the horses were leaving behind in the sloshing snow. Blobs were splattering and dragging along. Then he looked ahead. “I love your mother, and so should you. She’s a good woman, and she’d do anything for you.”

“Mmm hmmm.”

“But, don’t go tattling to her about what I’m about to say. Do you understand, Son?”

He heard Andreo’s gentle little sigh as he slowly absorbed the words. He almost sounded like a girl, but he was becoming a man. Soon, his voice would flitter and bounce and every word would have at least two inappropriate pitches to them. “I know, Papa. I won’t tattle to Mama.”

Erdgar took a breath, tasting the cold air and earth. “Your mother’s a pious woman, and that’s fine, but some people act as if when you have a religion there’s no need to think for yourself. I believe your mother has started to blindly follow her religion, and I’m worried that you might become the same. Take this example, the old argument with the music box. If you were to find a music box in the wilderness, the reason why you’d assume it was made by someone isn’t because it’s complex. It’s because it’s different from what you’d find in nature, completely different. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have even noticed the blasted thing.”

Erdgar cleared his throat. He wanted to seem wise. “There’s no reason to assume that natural things and unnatural things were both made in the same way since they are so different. Not only that, but we humans have knowledge of humans creating music boxes. We have no experiences of anyone or anything creating nature itself, especially not a god. We don’t even have an experience of a god creating a music box.”

There was a moment where nobody said anything. It was uncomfortable. Erdgar filled the space with humble words. “Ah … Son … I hope you don’t think any less of your poor father. I suppose … I’m always holding hope in you and your brothers. I want you all to be fine men, and I don’t believe a fine man, or any man at all, should have a perspective standing on a foundation of loose bricks. Mortar is vital, Boy.”

And suddenly, his face was warm and his legs tingled. He hurried to tell Andreo, “Listen, now! Don’t assume your mother is an idiot! She’s not! She has her reasons for thinking this way, and I’m not cross with her. Nobody should be. It’s only … well … it’s a knotted issue. Most adults don’t know how to bear such a thing.” Erdgar used a single hand to adjust a thick scarf around his head. Then he said, “A husband doesn’t need to agree with his wife on every issue there is. You’ll have to marry one day. You’ll have to have legally recognized children to continue the line. I don’t want you to carry on without an excellent foundation. Your children will suffer if you do.”

It took perhaps two full minutes for Andreo to respond with a very docile statement. “I understand, Papa.”

“Do you?”

Thirty seconds later, Andreo said, “I said I understand. That means I understand.”

Well, that was fine. Andreo was the sort of boy who said exactly what he meant, after all.

***

Tomek realized something was wrong when he saw a shadow creeping down the alley between his townhouse and another.

It was almost spring. He had been considering going off to the capital kırklareli escort to enjoy the Social Season. Heidi would have to dye her hair and draw a few false moles on her face, and they’d have to keep a low profile while in the capital, but it could be done safely. But, maybe they should wait a year or more to even try it? To give people more time to forget the famous fighter and his wife?

He wasn’t quite certain.

He did know, however, that there was danger crawling about, and that needed to be dealt with first.

He happened to notice the trespasser as he entered the house on a rainy night. That shadow .. it didn’t move as a poor beggar would. It moved with confident purpose.

He reminded his roommate and his wife to put their sliding locks on their doors in place. Then he reminded them to lock their windows. Then he carefully, quietly warned them that someone might be lurking about the house. Olga nodded with narrowed eyes and well trained fingers flexing at her belly. Heidi … well … she leaned into him, gazed up at him with frightened, wide eyes, and whispered, “Could it be … could it be your past returning to you?”

Tomek doubted that it was The Colony. They were too weakened, screaming in their death throes. There was the small chance, however, that the government was after them. However, it was still fairly unlikely. Even if the authorities had the lists of the assassins’ names, they probably didn’t have the information concerning the identifying burn scars. Even if they did, the scars were all in private locations, and the government wasn’t about to line up every single person in the nation to examine their bodies.

There was still the idea that some creep was planning a robbery or something.

But Tomek didn’t want to be careless. There was a pregnant woman in the house!

Now, assuming that the shadow was targeting someone, who was being targeted?

One of the two women, or even the servants, could be likely, if this shadow was the average sort of criminal. Now if Tomek was the target, then there would be a few signs.

Nothing happened that night, but he knew that person was there, walking around the place, trying to remain hidden from everyone’s eyes. Poor Heidi was so upset that she wouldn’t even play the violin, which was a shame. She could play beautifully.

Tomek decided to test the trespasser.

On the night after that one, Tomek told Olga to watch over Heidi. Then he dressed himself as if he was planning on having a happy nightly stroll. He even took a very fashionable cane with a golden handle. As he stepped down the stoop of the house, he very rapidly let his eyes touch a few areas around. He noticed the figure just barely peeking out from across the street. He knew it was the same person. It had the same size, same gait, and even the same behavior. It was quietly trying to not be noticed.

Besides those two people, Tomek and the shadow, there didn’t seem to be many people around. The streets were practically empty.

The snow had melted away. All that remained was chilly air and the undeterred hope for spring. Tomek lifted the hood of his cloak and turned right. His heels echoed on the pavement.

A moment later, he heard daintier footsteps a good distance behind. His head remained high and straight. He felt the white ribbon in his hair brush against his nape. The weight of his cane was unusually great in his hand. He let the end of the cane tap against the pavement as if every step he took required leverage.

So … he was the target, huh?

The shadow wasn’t an assassin. It was too clumsy, too obviously inexperienced with stalking prey. If this was an officer of the law, why wasn’t he being arrested right now?

His free hand sunk into one of his coat’s pockets.

He walked on, and on, and on … waiting …

Once a good while was wasted, Tomek halted at a very large building of plain but hefty bricks. It wasn’t a beautiful place, on a cotton spinning mill. It was barren of any comforts other than a lobby and a few offices. Everything else was reserved for complex machinery.

Tomek walked under the street lights, his form tinted in a faint yellow orange. He hung his cane on a button on his waistcoat. Then he pulled a little tinderbox and a ring of keys from a pocket. He lit an outdoor sconce near a side entrance. He unlocked the door.

Still there, waiting, watching, pursuing.

He entered the building. He didn’t lock the door. He didn’t completely close the door. He left a crack there as he put his keys back into his pocket.

As he walked, he paused at times to light a sconce or a lamp. In this choppy, slow manner, he moved up a narrow set of stairs and into a hallway on the second floor. His office was a room in the middle of one side of the hallway. He chose the door to that office. The hinges there were a bit squeaky. He left that door subtly ajar as he entered.

He afyon escort placed a lit candle on a side table near a window. Then he turned a tall, leather office chair, a sort with wheels on the bottom, towards that window, as if he wanted to lazily admire the urban scenery.

Tomek didn’t sit in that chair. He kept his steps light as he stood right next to a thick filing cabinet, which was beside the door, the only door in the room. He removed his cane from his waistcoat.

He heard the door’s hinges creak.

Someone with dark skin and black cropped hair, wearing a plain cloak, a coat, and breeches, carefully approached the office’s desk. The hands and feet seemed fairly small … and … there was a delicate air about the person’s face. Was that a woman? Hmmm … Tomek believed so. In fact, she seemed familiar.

She reached under her coat … and she pulled out a …

A pistol?!

She pointed it at the office chair and made wide steps, walking around the desk. Her eyes were pinned to that chair.

Tomek’s body remembered the past well. In barely a flash of motion, he was there. He had turned and pulled the cane’s handle, revealing a long and thin blade. He had brandished the cane-like sheath as if it too could be a weapon.

The blade pierced through the layers of clothing and into the flesh of her back. He knew because of how much the blade sunk. The trespasser’s body jerked. There was a gasping, grunting sort of noise. Her pistol fell and banged onto the wooden floor.

Tomek pulled the blade back. Blood oozed. He put the length of his cane over the woman’s throat, pulling her from behind. He wanted to throw her against a wall and ask her some serious questions. In his mind, she obviously wasn’t an on duty police officer, likely wasn’t even from the government, because she was committing a serious crime, and she didn’t even have the nerve to pretend that she had a search warrant or even an arrest warrant.

Not only that, but death warrants weren’t a thing. She had no business trying to kill anyone here.

She let herself fall back. That was risky, but she did it, and as she did it she managed to roll and twist her body similar to how a cat would. Tomek tried to stab downwards, but he actually missed the woman by a few centimeters.

The woman was rather respectable, actually. If he had the time, he would have politely applauded her.

Still on the floor, the woman kicked herself forward, reaching out for the pistol with her left arm. Tomek stabbed her left shoulder, earning another cry from her. He jammed the flat end of his cane into the back of her hand. He heard some of the bones crack just before she cried out again.

Tomek put the heel of his foot over her injured shoulder. Then he kicked her so hard that she screamed and slid back from the force of it. He quickly bent down and tossed his cane/sheath aside, making sure that the woman couldn’t reach it.

His left hand claimed the pistol.

He stepped away as the woman struggled to get up to a crouching position. She was so amazingly angry.

Assuming it was loaded, Tomek pointed the pistol at the woman’s face, and he pulled the trigger.

And it exploded in his hand.

***

When Tomek didn’t return the morning after his walk, Heidi thought she would die from concern. She imagined him dead with signs of torture, his teeth broken, his nails ripped out of his fingers, his skull bashed in.

Either her worry or her pregnancy had her vomiting. She didn’t know which. She reached a point where she was chewing mint leaves as if she was addicted to them. She wanted to call the police, but she didn’t know if that was the best idea. After all, Tomek was a former assassin who didn’t want any attention from the government.

Olga told her to wait for a month. If Tomek didn’t show up by then, he was likely dead, and she’d better marry someone else. At least those were Olga’s words. Heidi’s response was to vomit again. She hoped her teeth wouldn’t be damaged from it all.

She didn’t have to wait for a month because someone knocked on the door in the afternoon. Heidi didn’t let any of the servants answer the door. She sprinted there and opened the door so eagerly that she slammed the wall.

There was a man wearing a plain coat that had a shiny badge in plain sight. A weapon was attached to his waist. He said down to her in a solemn, concerned tone, “Excuse me, does Mrs. Heidi Maly live here?”

Heat faded out of all her skin. Even her nose felt cold. She sniffed and said, “I … yes. I’m Heidi Maly. What can I do for you, Sir?”

The man, who seemed to be a police officer, nodded and said, “Ma’am, I have upsetting news.”

A rush of footsteps!

“Officer! You need to be more specific! Now let me through!”

Tomek nudged the officer away and sauntered into his house with the most triumphant grin in the world. The left half of his face had a few amasya escort new scars as if sharp bits of metal had scattered onto him. His left hand was wrapped in a bundle of bandages. He was wearing an ill-fitting outfit that was different from what he had on the night before. Had someone loaned it to him?

It didn’t matter. Heidi wanted her arms around him.

Later that night, as they embraced each other on the edge of Heidi’s bed, Tomek whispered the events into her ear.

“The gun blew up in your hand?” Heidi murmured as her fingernails tightened into his shoulder.

His bandaged hand patted her thigh. “I believe the madwoman had tampered with it beforehand. She knew I’d be able to take it from her. She knew I was waiting for her to attack me.”

“What did you do then?”

“I dropped the thing, of course, but the woman sprung up and tried to wrestle with me. She was even able to twist my cane’s blade out of my grasp. But it didn’t matter how much she fought with me. I was stronger than her, and I believe I was more accustomed to pain then she was. Her body was weakened and slower. I was able to overpower her. I put her to the floor and broke her neck with my foot.”

Heidi blinked and took a deep breath. “She’s dead?”

“She’s very dead. The local morgue has her now. Nobody seems to quite know who she is. She didn’t have any identifying documents or badges on her person. The courthouse will put a notice in a newspaper and wait a few days for someone to claim the body. If nobody does, they’ll cremate her and put her ashes in a jar.” Tomek smothered a laugh with his good hand. “They have to save the graves for more important people.”

Two months passed on. Even though the mystery woman’s body had been turned to ashes, someone eventually asked about her. It was the king himself. It seemed that the head of the Invests, of all people, had gone missing. Since he just happened to see the notice in the newspaper one day, the king had wondered if the body belonged to that particular woman.

Unfortunately … the king happened to read that newspaper two months or so after the cremation date. It probably wasn’t his fault. A king must read several newspapers from several cities every day in order to be a well-informed monarch. It would be entirely sensible to skip one particular newspaper one day and leave it for later, and perhaps even forget about that newspaper entirely. It would even be sensible to forget to read sections of a newspaper, or merely glance over an article without thinking much of it.

Esther Urvine … the head agent of the Royal Investigators … holy damn!!

Heidi wondered about the details. She didn’t have to wonder too long. Tomek was the sort of man who knew exactly who to bribe and how to do it so indirectly that he could never be accused of it. He paid one man to pay another, and then another, to bribe an officer to listen in on the conversations of detectives. According to the Royal Investigators’ records, during the time of Esther Urvine’s disappearance, she was not on any assignments. She was not on duty. She hadn’t been working at all. Whatever she had been up to, it had not been sanctioned by the government in any way.

There was no way to genuinely prove that the woman Tomek killed in legally recognized self defense was Esther Urvine. The king had apparently been distressed to learn that. However, he didn’t pry into the matter.

Assuming the now cremated woman had been Esther Urvine, that would mean she would be accused of trespassing and attempted murder … in a sort of postmortem way … but yes, she would be accused, and she wouldn’t even be able to defend herself. Even if the accusations were false, rumors were much tastier than evidence. Her ethics as an investigator would be questioned. All of her previously solved cases would be re-opened and examined with fine toothed combs and exhausted eyes, just to make sure there weren’t any spots of corruption there.

This was terrible, regretful, and plain wrong, but it was more trouble than it was worth. The best option was for Esther Urvine to simply be known as missing instead of dead.

“I don’t know why she wanted to kill me,” Tomek told Heidi one night. “I don’t care. I don’t want to think about it. I only want to return to a normal life with my pregnant bride and my new career in cotton spinning.”

Heidi nodded and asked, “Do you believe everything will be normal from now on?”

“If not, I’ll find a way to force everything back to normalcy.”

***

Enio and Ermo were a year old. Their overall weight was three times as much as when they were born. They understood the concept of standing up and taking a few steps before falling flat on their bottoms. Other than that, they weren’t walking yet. They did their best to help adults dress them. They knew how to sloppily feed themselves, their bare hands squishing into or enclosing whatever edible thing was before their pink faces. Honey was a favorite of theirs. They could also say the words Mama, Papa, no, yeah, and yummy.

Andreo liked to sit down on piles of crinkling autumn leaves with one of the youngest baby brothers sitting in his lap. He’d entertain the brother with a toy and pat his silky soft head. During these moments, Erdgar, Danetta, or the nanny would often play with the other baby.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bo�altmam� ister misin?
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Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

The House of Marlowe

**Characters and text are protected under copyright law

Disclaimer: This story is not meant as ‘erotica’, but dark adventure-fantasy. It may contain material that sensitive readers might find uncomfortable. Please be advised.

The crowded streets of Solace, full of dirty people drudging about dirty lives, passed drearily by the House Firebridge personal carriage as it wound its way along through the lower merchant district towards the high streets. Inside, HouseMistress Sabrina Marlowe watched the scene of poverty through the curtained window, regarding the multitudes of unwashed peasants crowding up to carts and stalls, hoping to find fair deals. Others, even less fortunate than these impoverished masses, milled among them shaking cups and begging for alms of mercy, hoping for at least enough ferring to add up to a meal.

There was a familiarity to it all, her earliest memories being of the rank stench of these streets and their denizens, the hungry din of their pleading voices. She’d never been one of them, but she had grown up on these streets, among these wretched people.

It seemed so long ago now, another life, but as the daughter of a prosperous merchant, she’d spent her youth watching people scrabbling at the wares sold on her family’s myriad stalls and in their shops. Though her father had begun poor, she’d been born into comfort, which had grown into full wealth by the time she was first flowering into a woman. She could still remember the hours she’d spent, at her father’s insistence, working in the finer shops of his holdings, talking up trinkets and coaxing people to give over their last coins to own something they didn’t really need.

All his children had spent time in one shop or another, the oldest of them having manned stalls before the first of his shops had been bought. While he’d not needed them to ever work a day in their lives, the intent was for them to gain a bit of perspective and understanding of how to do business, as well as learn a bit of gratitude for their own wealth. While most of her siblings had despised their turns, finding it all too sordid and common, Sabrina had thoroughly enjoyed playing peddler.

The challenge of convincing people to purchase something utterly useless, when their money would have been better spent elsewhere, had been interesting. Of course, it had not hurt that she’d been blessed with beauty from birth, learning quickly that a little bit of sauce made every goose more appetizing. What deviances she developed were overlooked by the effectiveness of her ability to garner gold. Her father had plenty of other children that he could use as bargaining pieces to strengthen his business empire through calculated marriages.

As his youngest, the last of twelve children, Sabrina was free to be as much of a black sheep, in terms of virtue, as she wanted. Her talent was making money and manipulating people into giving it. Perhaps, it was for that reason that he’d chosen to leave control of the family empire to her, when he’d died. Though Sabrina knew that her likeness to her deceased mother had at least a little to do with it too, as had her willingness to use that to her advantage to manipulate her father.

Such a scandal it had been when his youngest child, a daughter-child to boot, inherited all control of the family business. Delicious had been the looks of outrage and scorn on the faces of her older siblings. Most knew well what unmentionable things she’d done behind closed doors to cement his favor, but had no power to undo any of it. All the more delicious had been their faces when they’d learned that she’d drained dry all the family coffers within the first year and purposefully leveraged the empire into insurmountable debt.

However, that was learned only after she’d ‘reluctantly’ bent, at long last, to their constant demands that she sold her ownership of the business to them. She used all the money they paid her for a derelict empire to create her arena stable and establish herself as the only female House owner in the Grand Arena. She named it House Firebridge as an inside joke to the bridges she’d burned to acquire it.

During her time playing salesgirl in her father’s shop, she learned that what the people of Solace were most willing to spend their money on was the Arena. It was a place where they could forget their own woes, revel in the spectacle of blood and death, and maybe manage to win a little extra money in the betting windows. It was where real power and real wealth was found.

And so, she’d set out to make herself a part of that world. Carefully and carnally weaving her plans one step after the other. First had been to convince her father to hedge out the rest of the family and entrust the family legacy to the one child who seemed to love being a merchant, not just a spoiled brat. Second had been to arrange for an early inheritance. And then, bahçelievler escort third, to secretly funnel the family fortune into illegal research.

The result of that research into alchemical transformations and enhancements had been Kalder. The fusion of elemental forces into a human form, altering him into a creature that would excel at combat. Of course, Kalder had been the only success out of dozens of attempts, as well as the only one who’d survived. She’d only really needed the one, however, so upon his creation, she enacted her fourth step.

She had the illegal operation uncovered and the research destroyed. She acquired Kalder, convincing him that she’d ‘rescued’ him from his tormentors, and turned him into a star of the arena. For that, he’d become a slave of unsurpassed loyalty. And his stone-like appearance had inspired her to create a kind of gimmick for her House, her experience as a merchant having taught her that such things were quite effective for gaining recognition.

With the fortunate find of the aljin, Colja, while building her initial stable, she crafted her idea of having a ‘Four Elements’ to lead her stable. It had taken her almost a full year to find someone who seemed to epitomize ‘water’ and was capable of being a champion. A beautiful woman who, unexpectedly, was killed during her second time on the sand.

While Kalder and Colja managed to remain survivors, as well as develop very impressive win records, the other two places in her foursome had proven much more difficult to keep filled. It wasn’t until Myrinus that she finally found a lasting ‘water’ and Sasiniel, purchased only a little over a year ago, that she’d found a suitable ‘air’. However, by that point, the novelty of the idea, which initially succeeded in earning her House considerable attention, had mostly disappeared and become more of a kind of hierarchy within her stable than an attraction for the House.

She’d been considering for some months to just let go of the long-suffering concept, novelty having a short shelf-life among the masses. As it was, Sasinel only fit the ideal in abstract and Myrinus, though a very capable warrior, lacked the real overall versatility that others had. Leita, for instance.

At the thought of the blonde gladiator, Sabrina sank back a bit into the upholstery of the carriage, a warmth floating up through her. The young woman excited her, she couldn’t deny it anymore. Excited her both as a growing champion and popular attraction of her House and as a pleasing toy in her bed. While she’d not thought much of the girl when she’d first seen her, now she found herself lusting for her, at times.

As much as she hated to admit it, she had let the girl get under her skin a little. There was nothing there as absurd as actual romantic desire, but there was no question that she had developed a strong favor to Leita. And so, she’d come to a decision.

While Kalder and Colja was still fonts of unyielding ability, their talents at teaching others to fight were proving almost better than their skills in the arena. However, Myrinus and Sasiniel, though very talented gladiators, lacked real skill as mentors. The sidil was too stand-offish and aloof to be well liked and the mariner lacked any real leadership ability at all.

While both were considered very highly rated gladiators, bringing in good money for the House, Sabrina had decided it was time to remove both from their positions. In the case of the beautiful, pale, sidil, Sasiniel she intended to make into her new concubine. While she was not exceptional as a lover, her exotic beauty and grace made for an excellent jewel to keep at her side for social functions. While she chaffed at being forced into a collar, her strange sense of discipline (or dogma) seemed to obligate her to conduct herself servilely.

In truth, given that sidil were rare as slaves, yet always in high demand, having Sasinel in a role likely to see her maimed and scarred had never seemed like the wisest choice. Better to have her where her considerable talent for dance could help lubricate negotiations or be used as an enticing draw for useful guests. All the better that she was able to defend herself and her owner, should the need arise.

Myrinus, however, had no other use than as a combatant. However, ‘demoting’ him seemed like a bad move, given his popularity within the stable. While he was a poor leader and teacher, he had excellent charisma in general, and seeming to fickly punish him for no reason could harm the loyalty of her stable. For that reason, she’d decided that it would be easier to just sacrifice him on the altar of profit.

She’d arranged for the guardsman she’d managed to get into her pocket to slip a blade into his side before he stepped into the arena. She’d secretly wagered a hefty sum against him through a proxy, while making a much smaller wager in his favor publically, bağcılar escort so to avoid the Arena from suspecting her of tampering. Being that he was favored to easily win, ensuring his defeat would secure her a tidy net return. Only, he’d surprisingly turned out to be far more durable than she’d expected. While he had lost, earning her the return on the wager, he hadn’t died, which had been the intention.

When Cornelius and Cookie wound up playing their little gambit, however, placing the blame on her concubine seemed the best recourse. It added fuel to the fire she could use to burn the traitorous whore and deflected any possible suspicions immediately. Luckily, the guardsman had no idea who he actually was acting on the behalf of, so there was no reason not to let him also burn as Cookie’s accomplice.

It had also, unexpectedly, managed to motivate Leita to become a willing and eager playmate in bed. Likely, to spite the woman who’d appeared to have not only have tried to kill her, but kill the man Leita had used to thwart her previous attempts at harassment. It had all worked out so beautifully. So well, in fact, that Sabrina had made yet another, very expensive, decision.

She felt the carriage come to a halt, finally, in the high street district of the city, where she had an appointment to see an old ‘friend’. Unlike the lower merchant quarter, this area was populated mostly by those of wealth, power, and terribly spoiled personalities. While this was the class of society she was more used to, Sabrina had always found such people to tedious and boring. The Baroness Wilholme, whom she was here to see, was one of the worst.

As a footman helped her down from the carriage, she spoke to him. “There is a large coffer in the carriage trunk, darling. Please bring it to me in about half an hour.” She heaved a sigh at the idea of that chests contents, feeling a stab of pain in her soul. Silently, she asked herself if she was certain that this was worth it.

However, without actually answering that question, she pushed it aside. Whether wise or foolish, this was what she intended to do. Baroness Wilholme would just have to accept it.

Crossing to the door of the upscale eatery, a pair of bodyguards flanking her, despite the relative safety of this area, she was shown in by a greeter. Without needing to ask, the greeter began leading her to where the Baroness had been seated, which turned out to be a table out on the terrace, overlooking a grand swath of garden.

“Sabrina, dear, always good to see you.” The noblewoman gushed in a plastic tone that failed to sound sincere, even if actually was. “I do hope you are well.”

“Quite, Farrah. And, it is always a pleasure to see you as well.” Sabrina responded in her own polite voice, which did sound sincere, even though it actually wasn’t.

As she was seated, her guards moved back and off to one side, near at hand, but out of the way. A similar pair of guards, as well as a couple of personal slaves, graced Farrah’s side of the table. Despite that neither of them needed any such attendants here, nobles in Solace typically used their entourages as a kind of status symbol. That Farrah had only brought four to this little tea spoke that she was trying to suggest that it was of the utmost casualness.

“I am told that they have received a rare shipment of Miskenbaal White tea here.” Farrah said pleasantly, a dainty smile as plastic as her voice, on her lips. “I took the liberty of ordering us a pot. I’ve heard that it is quite the delicacy in Creekshire. I am certain you will find it agreeable.”

“My thanks, my Lady.” Sabrina responded diplomatically. Sabrina had actually had it before and, not only was it a rather miserable tea, it wasn’t at all considered a delicacy in any country. However, if she knew the Baroness, she would stand by her belief that it was some kind of special treat, even if it made her sick to drink.

The Baroness began nattering about a bit of local gossip, something about a Lord who’d offended another Lord in some absurd way. Sabrina, however, took the moment to steel herself. She’d brought three hundred crescents to give the Baroness, repaying the money she’d received to purchase Leita and destroy her. She intended to keep Leita, eventually build her into one of the stars of her House, if not the House Champion.

She was done with schemes to tear the girl down. Nothing had really worked anyway, only pushed her to grow stronger and better. It also didn’t hurt that Sabrina growing fondness for the blonde gladiator was making it harder and harder to enact such plans. In the end, she felt certain that Leita would eventually earn back every ounce of the gold she was returning, and then some.

That didn’t make it any easier to have to return a literal fortune in gold coins. Three hundred crescent would be life changing for any of the people she’d passed in the lower ümraniye escort quarter and, unlike the Baroness, Sabrina wasn’t so spoiled by her own wealth to have lost sight of that. While its loss wouldn’t be considerably damaging for her, it was still hard to see it leave her ledgers.

“Oh, yes! I almost forgot.” Farrah said, her shift in tone catching Sabrina’s attention away from her sulking thoughts. “I want to thank you for finally taking care of things with that horrible girl. Her demise was worth every bit of what I paid.”

For a moment, Sabrina just looked at her with concealed confusion. “I’m…glad you approved.” She said, putting a smile on her face to cover the fact that she was still not sure what the noblewoman was talking about. “It was a pleasure to help.”

Farrah chortled lightly. “Well, it was a pleasure to see her getting her come-uppance from that ugly beastman in the arena. Hopefully, that will be a lesson for my errant husband.”

The effort not show the sudden revelation and surprise from reaching her face stole Sabrina’s ability to reply verbally, but she managed to tilt her head and give a ‘there you are’ gesture. The stupid woman had obviously mistaken Cookie for Leita. Of course, it wasn’t a surprise that she must only remember her former slave as a timid, blonde female. Sabrina didn’t think the Baroness had ever actually even known her name to begin with, could not remember her ever referring to Leita by name even once in all the times they’d spoken about her.

Nor was Farrah capable of paying enough attention to anyone other than herself to actually recall that ‘Cookie’ was the name of Sabrina’s concubine. Well, ex-concubine now.

“So glad that I entrusted this to another woman.” Farrah went on, oblivious to any signs or clues that her ‘friend’ was still trying to recompose herself from what she was saying. “I should have known a letch like Venge wouldn’t be up for destroying a girl he found pretty. Such a hound.”

Sabrina’s managed to make her scoffing laugh seem as though she were agreeing with the Baroness, but was actually aimed at the fact that she knew that Farrah had been gagging for a chance to catch the charismatic Houseowner’s eye for ages. Of course, Farrah’s capacity for hypocrisy knew about as much bounds as her ability for self-absorption.

As the Baroness shifted to some new rant about male nobles in general, Sabrina’s attention turned back inwards, digesting this little change of fortune. If she believed that Cookie was the slave she’d put her pointless ire on, believed now that she’d been dealt with in a manner she approved, then this solved everything. Sabrina could not only keep the money, but could keep Leita as well without worry of the Baroness continuing to interfere.

All it had cost her was Cookie, her companion of almost ten years, who had betrayed her. While she’d never loved Cookie, there had been a time when she was exceedingly fond of the woman. She would be lying if she claimed there wasn’t some small grain of sadness in her loss. However, since granting her an unofficial freedom and a measure of power within the House, Cookie had quickly changed into something foul and venomous. At first, it had proven a bit useful, but eventually became more tedious than anything. Honestly, the Cookie that she would miss had been gone for a very long time.

She begun to realize that Cookie had aims and expectations to take over House Firebridge someday. It was a foolish belief born out of her growing confidence that she was ever something more than just an unleashed whore, but was very likely to eventually turn into an idea that eliminating Sabrina might be to her profit. She’d been watching for any sign of Cookie’s loyalty wavering and Cornelius had provided that.

Despite the betrayal being, ultimately, minor and not aimed at Sabrina herself, it was more than enough to motivate her to snip the poisonous flower before it could flourish and infect more of the House. Ever since, it had seemed as though she’d been tripping into good fortune over and over. This instance being only the latest lucky turn.

“Ah, here is the tea!” Farrah spouted happily, sitting up more properly as the attendant came over with a steaming porcelain pot. “Barton, prepare my cup.” She gave an absent gesture to one of the slaves with her, an older and distinguished slave with beautifully dark skin and deep eyes.

“Yes, Mistress.” He intoned obediently, stepping close and going straight to his work.

Sabrina peered at the slave a moment, recognizing the name, somewhat unexpectedly. Leita had spoken of him as the man who had taken her partly under his wing when she was still a very young child. As she understood it, he’d also been the one to prepare her for what would begin happening to her as it became apparent that she was growing into a somewhat attractive young woman.

While it would be absolutely scandalous for her to try and speak to him at the moment, she would love a chance to ask the man about Leita. Even if it wouldn’t have been a breach of etiquette, with the Baroness unaware that her previous slave was still quite well and alive, Leita was a subject best left away from her ears going forward. She decided that she would simply let her loyal gladiator know that she’d seen him and he looked well.

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I proceeded unlacing my gown, and with relief it came off. The warm spring air was balmy against my already erect nipples, and my big tits felt heavy with desire.

‘Take off your gowns,’ I ordered Richilde, Fastrada and Judith. Of course they complied and I marvelled in their beautiful bodies being free of their constraints. Richilde was slim and blonde, with pink nipples and blonde hairs down below as well. Her buttocks were pert and always looked delightful when they shone red after spanking. Fastrada was another blonde, but more buxom, and with beautiful green eyes. Judith was the only brunette, with olive skin and dark eyes. Her nipples were a darker shade, and currently erect like mine. Each one of them had swollen cunt lips, glistening with moisture. They were so ready to get their own bliss, which wasn’t a surprise considering how long I had denied them.

‘Come here,’ I said to Fastrada, and put her on my lap. I made her sit, straddling one of my thighs and her pussy felt incredibly on my skin. She was so wet already. My own pussy contracted in response and I sharply drew my breath. I took one of her delightfully pink nipples in my mouth, and swirled my tongue over the nub. I explored the different skin textures between her tit, areola and nipple, nibbling at it with my teeth.

‘Aaaaaah,’ she moaned and started grinding her pussy against my thigh. I grabbed her arse cheeks and then slid a finger inside her arsehole while sucking hard on her nipple. She almost lost herself into ecstasy but she knew she wasn’t allowed until I said so.

‘Get off,’ I said to her, then I turned to Richilde. ‘Get down on your knees like a bitch in head,’ I panted. I loved spanking her tiny arse cheeks, it always excited me, and the prospect of doing it now made my pussy yearn for its due. However, I would hold back, to make the reward all the sweeter.

‘Arch your back,’ I told Richilde, and she did, exposing her wet cut and arsehole to me.

‘Please don’t,’ she begged me. She didn’t like getting spanked, but I never paid attention to her in this. I loved spanking her, and she would always get wetter from it. In fact her begging me not to only served to spur me on, and now I reached out and squeezed her buttocks. They were so firm and cute, and so I pulled my hand back and then brought it down upon her and gave her a resounding smack. It left a hand shaped mark on her fair skin. She gasped, and I leaned in with my face between her arse cheeks and then slowly let my tongue travel all along her crack from her wet pussy to her arsehole. And it was soaking wet now.

‘Mmm but you enjoy this, Richilde,’ I told her.

‘No, please no,’ she said tearfully and shook her head.

My cunt got so wet it was pulsating with heat between my legs, and I drew my hand back once more and let it fall onto her other arse cheek. She gasped muğla escort again, but didn’t move. I smacked her again, and again, while she was sobbing from the pain and her pussy was so wet the wetness began dripping down onto the floor. Her arse was red now and my own cunt was completely desperate to be touched.

‘Get up,’ I said, then laid down on my bed. ‘Give me my release,’ I commanded and they were instantly on me, Judith between my legs. Richilde and Fastrada each took one of my nipples in their mouths, and Judith opened hers to cover my cunt. Their warm tongues caused ripples of pleasure shoot through my body. Richilde and Fastrada sucked hard on my nipples, just like I wanted, and Judith’s tongue caressed my wetness in long, slow strokes. My hands were entwined with her brown, shining hair, as her tongue made me gasp and moan. She slowly licked up and down my crevice and I could feel the pressure building inside me like starlight. Then she drew back for a few seconds and I tried to pull her back onto me. This was a game we often played, to make the final pleasure even more intense.

Her eyes were almost black as I looked down at her face, and with a smile she once more sunk her lips and tongue between my swollen folds. She swirled briefly around my most sensitive nub, which was what I was really craving now, and then went back to her slow, slow strokes. Richilde and Fastrada kept licking, lapping and sucking on my nipples like little beasts.

‘Oh goddess,’ I moaned, ‘I need this release. Give it to me, Judith!’

But she kept her slow strokes, which would never make me reach ecstasy but only serve to increase my arousal. I was moaning loudly, and grabbing Judith’s hair while thrusting my hips up and down, trying to make her tongue touch my sensitive nub.

When I thought I couldn’t take anymore, she at last gave in to my desire and began kissing and licking my most sensitive spot. The ecstasy started spreading through my body like wildfire, spreading its pressure from that spot, out towards my limbs and then when I thought I would lose my mind it finally burst into a glittering flood of light and wave after wave of pleasure shot through me. I think I screamed out my pleasure, but for several heartbeats it was as if I was outside of my own body. Slowly I returned, all my limbs still tingling and my cunt pulsating with the aftermath of what I had just experienced.

‘Mmmmm,’ I moaned, satiated. ‘I needed that…’

Looking around I noticed they all looked at me with desperation.

‘Please, Your Royal Highness,’ said Fastrada, ‘may we also have our release? It has been so long… and Ermengard and Alda… they did enjoy theirs earlier… please, we cannot carry on like this…’

‘Mmmm,’ I purred, ‘you think you deserve that, do you?’

‘No, ordu escort of course not,’ blushed Richilde, ‘but we were hoping you might take pity on us…’

All their nipples were hard, their colour was high, and there was glistening wetness between all their thighs.

‘What do you think, Judith?’ I reached for her and took one of her nipples between my fingers. I slowly squeezed it, playing with it.

‘My lady, I would like nothing better,’ she replied breathlessly.

‘Very well,’ I sighed. ‘You are lucky I am such a kind mistress. But you know the rules. I want all of you on your knees on the floor. Arch your backs… beg for it.’

They scrambled to get down and on the floor, Richilde still with her red arse cheeks.

‘Please, please, Your Royal Highness,’ they pleaded, exposing their cunts to me, arms outstretched in front of them. I marvelled at their swollen pussy lips, their slits glinting with moisture.

‘Good girls,’ I whispered. ‘Now, who should I let have her pleasure first?’ I sat down on my knees behind them, lined up before me.

All three arched even more, showing off their beautiful pussies as much as they could, each hoping I would pick them first.

‘Me, please, Mistress,’ begged Fastrada, standing on the middle. I slid my fingers over her wet folds and she moaned. It felt so good to touch her wetness, feeling her heat.

‘No, please, pick me,’ moaned Richilde to my right. Her red arse cheeks were enticing me, but I think I would save her for last.

Judit’s olive skin to my left looked delicious in the afternoon sun filtering in through the open windows, and I decided to start with her.

My fingers reached in between her folds, and her moan came from deep inside her. I rubbed her most sensitive spot, and her hips were moving against my fingers in response. Her slick juices were covering my fingers already, and I slid them inside her. She was so warm and wet, and she went wild and started thrusting her cunt back and forth on my fingers as if they were a cock. I loved seeing how desperate she was, and how her arse jiggled as she thrust. Her wantonness was something new, perhaps she was inspired by Jarl Johan’s treatment of Ermengard, and I took intense delight in it.

‘Oh Mistress, oh Mistress,’ she moaned, fucking my fingers with her wet cunt, and then her cunt tightened around my fingers and she began shaking with her ecstasy before collapsing forwards onto the floor.

‘Good bitch,’ I told her and then moved on to Fastrada.

I knew what she liked and with my finger already so wet from Judith’s nectar, I easily slid two fingers right into her tight little arsehole. It felt amazing how it enveloped both my fingers and she moaned. With my other hand I began rubbing her little nub, and sliding the two fingers osmaniye escort in and out of her arse again and again.

‘Oh please, Mistress, please don’t stop,’ she gasped and sobbed as I rubbed her nub hard while imitating a cock in her arse with my other hand.

When she found her release she shouted out her pleasure before also collapsing, more or less on top of Judith. They were both panting, and began slowly kissing each other on the floor.

This only left Richilde, and I would have my second treat this afternoon. Her buttocks was still faintly red and she was breathing fast, knowing what was coming. It would make her quiver with desire and sob with pain. She knew if she wanted her release she would have to let me do what I wanted, and she hated it.

I squeezed her arse cheeks again, then slid my fingers between her folds and rubbed her. Of course she moaned, writhing against my hand and trying to reach ecstasy instantly to spare herself the spanking.

‘Naughty Richilde,’ I whispered.

Then I drew my hand back again and once more spanked her. Her arse cheeks jiggled slightly under my hands, getting hotter with each smack. She sobbed, begging me to stop, but it felt too good to see the redness spread over her lily-white skin. When they were shining and red, I pulled her cheeks apart and started licking her arsehole. She sobbed with the humiliation of this, but of course I didn’t pay that any mind. I kept licking her arse, then drew back and once more struck her cheeks several times. The girl was sobbing and moaning loudly now, I knew she was close to her release.

‘Beg me for it,’ I said while smacking her cheeks again and again. ‘Beg me to have that release you crave.’

‘Mistress, please, stop spanking me, please give me my release, please. I can’t take any more of this,’ she turned her tear-filled gaze on me over her shoulder.

‘You know what you need to say,’ I told her. She shook her head desperately. ‘Say it,’ I commanded with a smile.

Fastrada and Judith had proceeded caressing each other’s cunts at the sight of Richilde’s plight: I wasn’t the only one enjoying it. Now they leant in and each grabbed one of her nipples too, and squeezed hard.

‘You’re only delaying the inevitable,’ I laughed. Then she said the line I always made her say, the only way I ever allowed her to reach her bliss:

‘Please, Your Royal Highness, spank me harder while rubbing my cunt so I can reach ecstasy!’

‘Of course I will,’ I said, and put one of my hands between her legs. She was so, so wet. I started rubbing her whole cunt hard, while smacking her arse cheeks again and again. Fastrada and Judith pulled and squeezed her nipples. Within seconds she was moaning loudly with every breath she took, her legs began trembling.

‘Do it!’ I commanded. ‘DO IT!’

And with that she exploded in a wave of pleasure, her wetness squirting out of her onto the floor, before she collapsed in a heap, unable to speak for several minutes.

I looked at the three of them, all of us satiated for now. The sun stood a bit lower than I liked, showing we didn’t have long before the celebratory dinner. It really was time to get ready.

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Far, far away in the less traveled parts of the woods, lived a naughty little pixie called Bluebelle. Bluebelle would fill her days gathering flowers, dancing with her many friends and of course, with mischief. She was a seductive little thing, with bright red hair, smooth creamy skin and eyes a shade of green that rivaled the costliest emeralds in the King’s coffers. Being quite the social butterfly, when she heard of the summer ball scheduled for that weekend, she set about preparing herself for it with great zeal.

The first thing she decided that she needed for the ball was a new gown. Not one for the passé, she desired something not only flattering, but trendy. After careful deliberation, she decided on a delicate silver dress she had seen in town that would flatter her pretty wings and glint nicely against her rambling curls. She made her way to town and upon entering the shop, with lowered lashes and her head cocked to one side, she approached the shopkeeper.

“Kind Sir,” she purred, “Pray tell, how much is that gown in the window?”

The shopkeeper, a handsome elf looked up from his newspaper to see a provocatively attired Bluebelle. Her breasts sat atop his counter, spilling out of her tight corset. He peered over his reading glasses at her. Noticing that she was bursting at the seams, his eyes lingered over her bosom for a spell before he answered.

“One shilling,” A faint smile played across his lips.

“I’ll take it!” Bluebelle bubbled.

Bluebelle reached for her purse and then carelessly let it slip from her grasp. She swiftly bent to pick it up, allowing a breast to tumble clumsily from its restraint. Pretending not to notice, she fished for the shilling in her purse as her tit enjoyed its new freedom. The shopkeeper flushed red, carrying on her charade. A leisurely search finally uncovered the shilling and Bluebelle handed it to the shopkeeper. He extended his arm to receive it. As he did, she grabbed his hand and planted it firmly upon her breast.

The shilling clattered to the ground forgotten.

The shopkeeper could not believe his good fortune. He groped her eagerly, kneading her chest until he popped out the other tit. With an exceedingly hard cock between his legs, he closed the shutters of his shop and lifted her onto his counter.

He laid Bluebelle on her back, climbed atop her and nestled his insistent cock between her soft, inviting breasts. Grabbing one in each hand, he shoved them together and rubbed himself in between. Bluebelle licked the head of his cock every time it emerged from her cleavage.

The elf was delirious with bliss.

After a while, he climbed off to throw her legs apart. Raising her skirts, he saw that she was bare underneath. Her pink, plump pussy glistened with fragrant moisture and inflamed, the elf proceeded to prod her with thin long fingers.

He quickly bent to lick it.

Bluebelle’s pussy was as delectable, as it was aromatic. Taken aback by her marvelous flavour, the elf spread her vulva wide and tongued her hungrily until she dripped with sap. He made a meal of it, lapping enthusiastically, until her wetness smeared his cheeks and chin. When Bluebelle moaned and thrashed about under him, he took his cue and extracted his long, thin cock from his britches.

It took the better part of a minute, but eventually the elf was able to fully penetrate her exceedingly tight, sticky pussy. As the shopkeeper eased his cock in and out of her, it got tighter still. He groaned and grunted wildly at first, the pleasure being immense, but then struggled to maintain his well-paced strokes. Soon he was unable to move at all.

When he was reduced to a wiggle, Bluebelle wrapped her legs around him and squeezed tighter still until she came with a heated moan, squirming around on the elf’s cock. Nectar coursed down her thighs and puddled in her shoes. When she caught her breath, she released her legs and pushed the elf to the ground. She sped from the store with her gown and a pair of shoes that she had had her eye on for weeks. By the time the elf had managed to struggle to his feet, all that remained was a trail of sticky footsteps that led to the loudly banging door.

The shopkeeper was very, very angry indeed, having been left so prematurely with a raging cock and no release in sight. In frustration, he kicked the shilling away as he stared down the road, watching Bluebelle disappear hurriedly around the corner.

Bluebelle, delighted with herself and her newly acquired items, hurried back to her home in the woods, laughing all the way. Inside her cottage, she stripped bursa escort off her plain blue dress and tossed it aside. She tried on her new shoes and slipped the gown over her head.

“Simply splendid!” she said, delighted with her outfit.

Bluebelle twirled before her mirror admiring herself. She fluffed her hair and pouted at her reflection, turning to look at herself over her shoulder.

Bluebelle liked what she saw and she fluttered her wings and wiggled her rump. She lifted her gown over her hips and grasping her ankles, she bent down to admire her reflection through her open legs. Never one to wear undergarments, she studied her shaven pussy. The juicy pink lips gaped open, still moist from her encounter. Bluebelle spread her ass cheeks with both hands. First, she winked her asshole at herself, pushing it open and then closing it tight. Then she did the same with her pussy, fluttering the fleshy labia like her pretty gossamer wings.

Bluebelle was indeed a very capable pixie and she was extremely proud of her talents. Not wanting to crumple her gown, she straightened and carefully slipped it over her head and hung it in her closet.

The evening of the ball finally arrived and Bluebelle had spent the entire day pampering herself in preparation. Completely manicured, pedicured and cleanly shaven, she put on her most delicate pair of stockings and garters. She riffled through her chest of drawers until she found her tightest red corset. With great effort, she fastened it, then put on her gown and shoes and brushed her hair. When all was in place, she made her way to the waiting carriage.

In her typical flirtaceous way, she had made asked a palace footman called Charlie to transport her to the ball. Charlie was a vibrant young pixie, who had long admired Bluebelle from afar. Desperately wanting to impress her and perchance to sample her ample wares, he had quickly offered to borrow one of the palace carriages for the evening. Amidst a flowery declaration of love, he had informed her that a pixie of her standing should be transported to the ball in style befitting a princess. When Charlie arrived at the agreed hour, Bluebelle hopped inside the carriage and they sped away to the ball.

They arrived by late evening. As Bluebelle alighted the carriage exposing a little more leg than she perhaps needed to, Charlie looked at her expectantly. They had spent the journey engaged in double entendres punctuated by smoldering stares. Not wanting to disturb her hair, nor dress, Bluebelle thought quickly to put their tryst off for another time. But Charlie was insistent. Seeing that he had risked his position to secure the carriage, and noticing the hard cock imprinted in his britches, she relented, feeling some dampness of her own.

Clutching his hand, Bluebelle led Charlie to the dimly lit side of the carriage and fell to her knees. She undid his lacings and allowed his undergarments to fall to his feet. Cramming his ample cock into her mouth, Bluebelle sucked him slowly at first and then with great vigour, rolling his balls between her fingers.

Charlie grunted his pleasure and lunged so deeply into her mouth that her head bobbed furiously up and down with his exertions. A stifled cry escaped him when her lips closed around the root of his cock.

Not wanting to be late and growing increasingly aroused, Bluebelle did not pleasure Charlie’s cock for long. She rose to her feet and raised one leg so that it rested high upon the carriage.

Leaning over as best she could, she sprawled across it and pulled up her gown to expose her rosy, pink bottom. She spread her lips wide, and bearing down, squeezed a few drops of syrupy nectar from her glistening hole.

With a wink, she beckoned Charlie in.

Obliging, with mouth agape, he quickly kneeled between her thighs.

Charlie spread her lips wider still and allowed her delicious sap to drip onto his tongue. He swallowed hungrily and licked at her clit a few times before inserting two fingers to pry her open fully. Unobstructed, her juices flowed freely.

Charlie uncoiled his long pixie tongue inside her as far as he could. He swished his tongue around her walls and beat it hard against her sweet spot, fishing out as much of her nectar as he could. Bluebelle opened her legs wide and rotated her hips across his tongue. When the pleasure grew increasingly intense, Bluebelle squatted onto Charlie’s face. Her pussy pulsed upon his tongue, drawing it into her and feeling this, he stroked his tumescent cock hard and fast çanakkale escort in preparation to storm her sticky wetness.

Bluebelle was moaning wildly by the time Charlie decided it was time to mount her. He attempted to pull himself away, but her pussy would not release his tongue. With his face pressed tightly into her crotch, poor Charlie struggled and gasped for air. As her pleasure increased, she grew tighter and tighter still. His thrashing only whipped his tongue deliciously about Bluebelle’s pussy sending her higher and higher until she finally exploded in piercing wails.

With Charlie’s tongue still in a vice like grip, Bluebelle’s pussy pulsed squirt after squirt of thick, warm nectar into Charlie’s open mouth. He spluttered as he struggled, swallowing the deluge as best he could, so as to avoid meeting an untimely end. The rest overflowed, oozing over his face and neck and soaking his tunic. He looked a quite a sight. Great gobs of yellow syrup hung in his hair and off his ears like bizarre chandelier earrings.

Immediately satisfied and now late for the ball, Charlie was forgotten and Bluebelle shoved him roughly away. A stunned, speechless Charlie tumbled to the ground. Drenched, he laid awash in Bluebelle’s puddle, as she casually stepped over him and made her way inside to the ball. Charlie was enraged. Before he could rise to pursue her, however, she had disappeared into the great hall.

Bluebelle reveled in the evening, although she spent a great part of it evading the many lovers she had left wanting. When she encountered the baker, she crouched and darted through the dancers, disappearing into the crowd. The baker had been a memorable conquest. After she had saucily seduced him and ridden him to her satisfaction, Bluebelle had abruptly left him in a billowing cloud of flour, beating a hasty retreat and sending pans of batter flying as she went. The cobbler had suffered a similar fate. After fixing her shoes and thrusting his cock wildly between her arches, he was left three strokes short of orgasm. Indeed, her castoffs bitterly learnt why her name was so fitting. She was a minx of a belle with a penchant for leaving her lovers painfully blue.

Bluebelle’s disgruntled lovers having traded their tales of woe together had devised a scheme to bring about her demise. When they happened upon each other at the soiree, they threw their plan into action. Bluebelle, blissfully unaware of their conspiracy, flitted about coquettishly, seeking yet another to lure between her thighs. As the evening wore to a close, she unwittingly fell into the arms of a dashing conspirator, who had as yet, only aspired to experience her charms.

Upon seeing her, he quickly enticed her away to the stables. There, he maneuvered her breasts from her gown and sampled her nipples until they became hard and flushed red. When Bluebelle sighed and fed her breasts into his mouth, the conspirator inched his fingers beneath her skirts and worked them into her pussy. There he played until his thick fingers squelched in and out of her, smearing her wetness to her asshole and cheeks.

Soon enough, Bluebelle begged to be taken. The conspirator tugged her gown and corset from her body, leaving her naked but for her stockings and shoes.

Bluebelle heaved expectantly.

Her anticipation soon turned to horror when he suddenly threw her across his knee.

He retrieved a cherry pit from his pocket and wedged it between her labia.

Restraining her with one firm arm, the other rose high above his head, and then fell hard upon her ass leaving an angry red imprint. With a contemptuous tone, he informed her that she was an overindulgent little cocktease and that the pit he had lodged within her would remain so fixed until she had satisfied every last one she had left wanting.

Bluebelle was stunned.

Before she had a chance to protest, he clamped a collar about her neck, wound the leash tightly around his hand and spanked her hard and fast, knocking the breath from her body.

Bluebelle grew quickly enraged and fought wildly to escape. So great was her struggle, that she and the conspirator were soon engulfed in a swelling cloud of Pixie dust. The conspirator was relentless, however smacking her hard until her buttocks quivered into crimson with each slap of his hand. She twisted trying to wrench herself free and pulsed her pussy in an effort to dislodge the obstruction.

The conspirator only paddled her faster, deliberately lowering his strokes so that they brushed her pussy with rize escort each pass of his hand.

Bluebelle flapped her labia erratically at first to eject the pit, but soon, the fluttering arose from the delicious slaps that rippled through her loins. When her rage surged into a reluctant desire, she ground her slick vulva into each sweeping pass of the conspirator’s hand.

He kept her leash short and tight so that she was forced to look into his dark, punishing eyes.

Unwilling to fully yield, Bluebelle whimpered her pleasure until his fingers suddenly plunged knuckle deep into her ass. A deep moan escaped her lips and she eased herself onto his probing fingers, moving her hips in time with their thrusts until she cried aloud for his cock.

Seeming to comply with her request, the conspirator paused and withdrew his fingers.

Bluebelle panted, looking up at him expectantly.

He leaned towards her, smiling, as if about to draw her into a tender kiss. She opened her mouth expectantly and closed her eyes. Her eyes flew open as cold, wet fingers forced their way into her mouth, smearing her lips and cheeks with her own juices. The conspirator laughed cruel taunts into her ear. He took to probing her ass again, repeatedly building her desire and then stopping short of release, until tears of frustration rolled down her cheeks.

When the conspirator’s cock pained with hardness, he brought Bluebelle to her feet, with a yank of her chain. Before she could fully straighten, he pushed her to her knees, worked his cock around her stickiness and made his way into her ass. Bluebelle grunted from the sweet pleasure of impending release. The conspirator eased himself deeper until completely embedded and then ravaged her vengefully, amidst her relenting squeals of delight.

He did not last long.

Moments later, he withdrew and whipped her buttocks with cascades of hot cum. The rivulets pooled around the cherry pit before trickling off the end of her pendulous clit onto her inner thighs and knees.

Feeling the conspirator’s fluid heat and knowing full well that she had been left behind for the first time in all her sexual escapades, Bluebelle nonetheless strained furiously to cum but could not. She screamed her protests into the hardened ears of the conspirator who only paused to tuck himself away as he offered a wry grin.

Mission accomplished, the conspirator vanished almost as quickly as he had made his appearance, leaving Bluebelle frustrated and terribly bitter.

It was a long walk home that night and a restless sleep ensued. At dawn, she drew out her mirror and sat upon it. She fiddled with the pit, poked at it and tried to squeeze it loose until she worked herself into a frenzy of desire. No matter how she tried, she could not orgasm, nor would the pit budge.

Having learnt her lesson Bluebelle decided to make amends. She immediately ventured into town with a heavy, swollen pussy and set about draining every cock she had failed to make cum.

Townsfolk queued from sunrise to sunset before a red-kneed Bluebelle as she sucked her mouth numb. The entire time, she rubbed herself vigorously, trying to secure a release that continually evaded her.

Some were selfish, ignoring her pleas for release; they gripped her collar and fucked her face until their cum pelted against the back of her throat.

Others took great pains to tease her into a wild frenzy; they took turns at her mouth and her ass until they finally spilled over and laced her holes with cum that ran out and smeared her face and thighs, leaving her just short of ecstacy.

It was at sunset that the final ejaculation came.

It was Charlie’s.

Charlie had watched the proceedings all day and had resolved to be Bluebelle’s very last.

With a sheepish grin, Bluebelle gently took Charlie’s cock into her mouth and tenderly sucked him through affectionate caresses. She cupped his balls the way he liked and when he stiffened as though about to cum, she wholeheartedly took his entire length into her mouth.

Bluebelle satisfied Charlie this time. On her knees, before the entire town, she deep-throated his cock until he flooded creamy cum into the pit of her stomach.

Bluebelle held fast onto Charlie’s cock and sweetly kissed away the small beads that had escaped her lips. With one last swallow into a bellyful of cum, the pit plunked out of her.

Bluebelle was relieved and unreservedly happy. She and Charlie watched as the townsfolk walked away. When they were all gone, Charlie took a kinder, more considerate Bluebelle by the hand and together they disappeared into the forest where they lived happily ever after.

As for the cherry pit, it grew into an enormous tree where it fell. Each year, it bore a crop of magic cherries that were picked and safeguarded by that mysterious conspirator whose job it was to punish naughty little pixies like Bluebelle.

The End.

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Hello, it’s your humble omniscient narrator again. This guy Jon Thomas sure has a lot of people in his head. He has me working overtime trying to tell all their stories.

Here’s the latest Passion play inspired by his friend Jacy, from Texas.

~~~

Jacy Etergen is descended from royal stock. Her ancestor was a female Inca Chief who was born intersex.

She instructed Paq’o, her medicine man to create a potion that would free her from her curse. He came up with a concoction that was supposed to break the spell and permit her to become female only.

As all of us know, mixing potions is an inexact science, and not surprisingly Paq’o’s home-brew had the opposite effect. Instead of shrinking her over-sized clit to a normal dimension; the potion caused it to develop a mind of its own and transform into a long thick cock whenever it wanted.

The lady Inca Chief was a size queen, and now that she was packing, she was so happy with her really big penis; she decided to pass the secret elixir to her female descendants.

Paq’o enchanted the bottle so that only a female heir possessing a sexual nature identical to that of the Chief could open it.

Jacy is the latest female Inca Princess since her granny who has a strong enough sex-drive, and good enough judgment to be able to open the enchanted bottle.

The thing that none of the female Inca Chief’s ancestors realized is, Paq’o mixed her blood in the potion; this allowed her to live within anyone who drinks it.

She will live inside of Jacy until Jacy is no longer strong enough or have the desire to satisfy the lady Inca Chief’s lust for pussy. At that point it will be her responsibility to find the next female heir to pass the potion on to.

~~~

It was Friday evening in the master bathroom at stately Etergen manor, on the quarter acre lot that served as their estate.

Jacy and her hubby Mario had just finished fucking. Now she was sitting on the commode letting his spunk drain out of her Cono, while he stood at the sink a few feet away from her washing his Polla.

A short time ago they’d finished an hour long session of bumping uglies. While they were humping they were also working each other into a frenzy, by talking about their favorite fantasy again.

In it, Jacy played the role of the soccer mom, who was also a member of the P T A, and church choir. She had once again invited her dark black landscaper to plow her asshole with his big black cock, before emptying his nuts in her guts.

That particular scenario was more for Mario’s pleasure than it was for hers. You see, the thing that always gets Mario the most fired up, is the thought of Jacy getting nailed by a big black dick. On the other hand, Jacy loves to make Mario happy, so she goes along with role-playing that she’s getting stuffed to overflowing with ebony man-meat.

What he didn’t know though was every since she drank Paq’o’s potion, the Inca Queen who lives inside her wants some pussy from time to time.

As she flexed her pucker to squeeze the last slender ropes of Mario’s nut juice out of her dumper, she was hoping they’d find someone for both of them, during their weekend getaway in Dallas beginning the next morning.

~~~

A few hours later they were checking into their hotel, and Jacy had already resigned herself to taking one for the team. She was standing to Mario’s left while he was dealing with the hotel check-in clerk. That was when it happened. She suddenly felt an uncontrollable desire to look at a studly looking guy sitting in the lobby. When she caught his eye she puckered her lips and sent a kiss in his direction, though she didn’t know why she did it.

After the rugged looking man signaled his mutual interest with his eyes, she nudged Mario before leaning in closer and whispering to him. She said, “Baby I think I see the man for düzce escort us. Don’t look now, but he’s the cowboy sitting over there at the bar. I’ve already made a connection with him.”

~

Jethro Bodine was a ranch hand by trade. Yep they still exist in Texas. He was in town for a weekend of rest and relaxation, meaning he was going to a whorehouse to buy some pussy. For some unknown reason he’d been compelled to chill in the hotel lobby until it was time to head out to the cathouse. As his luck would have it, he’d just made eyes with a cute small town married lady. Based on the way she’d flirted with him, she was probably in the city with her hubby, to get down and dirty. If that was what they were looking for, he was the man for them.

He’d done it plenty times before. Women from the city often times have a romantic notion about rugged cowboys like him. The pencil dick husband usually wanted to watch their wife get fucked hard by a real man. The ones who weren’t in denial would often times join in.

~

When Jacy and Mario headed for the elevator, she veered over to the bar for a second, to give Jethro a piece of paper with their room number written on it. As she walked away, she looked over her shoulder and said, “See you in an hour.”

~

Jethro didn’t acknowledge her, but he smiled to himself discreetly. She was cute, and he liked redheads. Especially the ones built for comfort like Jacy. They always seemed to be just a little bit dirtier in the sack.

Her hubby was tall and wiry; those kinds of guys often times had a long thick pole. That was another reason Jethro preferred to come to town alone. He was a switch-hitter and he didn’t need the other cowpokes on the ranch knowing his business.

The hour went by quickly for him, thanks in part to the shots of tequila he drank. By the time he was walking into the elevator and punching up their floor, Jethro’s engine was primed and ready to roar.

~

At that moment up in Jacy and Mario’s room, drinks had been made, and the lights were low. Mario was still fully dressed, but Jacy was wearing her sexiest panty and bra set underneath a lacey cover-up.

When the knock on the door echoed through the room, Jacy flashed a nervous smile at Mario as he went to let Jethro in. She loved feeling the flutter in her stomach just before a new lover would join them. She’d positioned herself on the side of the bed facing the door, so the first thing Jethro would see was those pale thick thighs of hers.

As soon as Mario greeted him, Jethro walked into the room as though he owned the place. “Howdy partner,” he said to Mario while tipping his oversized cowboy hat. Then he turned his attention to Jacy and smiled at her, before he tipped his hat again.

He was standing with his bow legs shoulder width apart. His strong delicate hands were on his hips. His doe eyes and slightly heart shaped face had a hint of femininity, even with a three day growth of stubble.

He looked deep into Jacy’s eyes, and spoke in a somewhat feminine sounding voice that had some bass in it. “Howdy ma’am, Jethro Bodine at your service,” he said.

Before the words had finished flowing past his lips, Jacy’s smile froze, and her eyes bucked open, when she felt her clit-cock becoming a big thick schlong. She immediately thought to herself, “What the hell is going on? That’s only supposed to happen when I’m about to lay some pipe in some woman’s hot juicy slit.”

She was jerked back to reality when Jethro said, “What can I do for you?” He was licking his lips and unbuttoning his shirt. He didn’t know why, but he was feeling more macho than he ever had before. Of course there’s always an exception to a rule, but this is no time to get philosophical.

As he slowly walked toward the bed he was tweaking his nipples edirne escort between his thumbs and forefingers.

By the time he was standing in front of Jacy, her clit had grown into her eight inch long, impressively thick schmeckel. Her legs opened uncontrollably, unveiling her trouser snake straining against her undies.

Mario’s facial expression was a cartoonish mixture of shock and surprise, when Jacy spread her legs. That big dong of hers was stretching her cute panties to the height of a circus tent.

Oddly enough Jethro didn’t bat an eye, and kept right on getting undressed. He shucked his flannel shirt and tossed it to Mario, and then said, “Make yourself useful, and help me out of my cowboy boots.”

He put a hand on a kneeling Mario’s shoulder to balance himself as he pulled one boot off, and then the other. His feet were like his hands, they were more delicate than you’d expect a cowboy’s to be.

A moment later he was standing inches away from Jacy wearing only his skinny leg jeans, while looking down at her with a cocky smirk on his face.

Mario was standing where he’d have a good view of Jacy’s handiwork. He was unzipping his fly as Jacy undid Jethro’s. He was planning to beat his meat senseless, while his schwanz loving wife serviced their guest.

When Jacy unbuttoned the last button on his button fly jeans and peeled them off of him, she let out an audible gasp before she could stop herself. Her big studly cowboy was wearing lacey pink panties, and the bulge underneath was shaped just like the plump mound of a vulva.

When she slid down his skivvies, she found a thick mane of neatly groomed pubic hair, surrounding a pair of thick coochie lips.

What neither Jacy nor Jethro understood or realized was, it had been the power of Paq’o’s potion that brought the transgender man, and chick with a dick together.

Meanwhile Mario couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He suddenly felt unsteady on his feet, the shock and excitement of it all was nearly too much for his brain to comprehend. The manly dark skinned cowboy had a cooter, and his ample bodied redhead wife had the type of tally whacker he dreamed of watching fuck her.

The unveiling of Jethro’s punani, together with the rise of Jacy’s clit cock, had gotten Mario so excited; he almost had a spontaneous ejaculation.

A few minutes later the three of them were buck naked and lying on the bed together. Mario was leisurely touching himself in a most inappropriate way. If he’d done that to someone on public transportation, he would’ve gotten kicked in the nuts, and arrested.

At five foot nine, Jethro was shorter than Jacy, yet he was in the more dominant position, as they lay there embracing each other. He was all man in every way but one, and even down there, his clit was thick and over three inches long. He was grinding it against Jacy’s leg while he tongue kissed her and played with her titties.

The way he was controlling the situation, you would have thought he was the one packing eight inches of tube steak instead of Jacy. He sucked her breasts, and planted hot kisses around her face, neck, and shoulders. All the while his cunny was creaming and begging to be fucked, and so he climbed aboard Jacy and rode her. He was grinding his crotch on her, and bucking his hips. Even though she was the one with the shaft, he was the one doing the thrusting.

He put his arms behind her knees and put her in the full buck position. He squatted and then mounted at an angle that allowed him to long dick himself on Jacy’s tool.

All the time Jethro was working her, Jacy was grinning from ear to ear. She couldn’t believe her luck; she was getting fucked, at the same time she was getting some kitty.

Jethro was using his body as well as any man Jacy had ever been with. elazığ escort In fact if she wasn’t seeing it was him, she’d swear it was Mario riding her. Jethro’s rhythm was perfect, as he swiveled his hips every time he pushed his tunnel of love, down on Jacy’s peter. Even though it looked like a massive pecker, it was really just her clit, and it was sending shivers of pleasure throughout her crotch.

In the position Jacy was in, all she could do was use her hands to run them all over his body, and play with his own good sized clitty. It was the size of a big thumb, and as hard as a rock. When Jacy felt herself getting close to cuming, she started jacking Jethro off. Her ministrations of his big button were right on time and exactly what he needed. Soon he picked up his pace and they were both headed for that little death we all feel when we bust our nut.

After they’d both had the last orgasm of the many that had happened while they were fucking, both of them laid on the bed for a moment to gather themselves.

Meanwhile, Mario had shot a load a long time ago, and was already getting chubby again. He felt like he was in the twilight zone as he surveyed the scene in front of him. The visual was surreal; Jacy’s curves looked womanly in spite of the log lying across her thigh. Jethro’s toned muscular ebony body, with his broad shoulders and thick chest were in complete contrast to the pretty pussy between his legs.

Mario was use to Jacy’s cock, besides a chick with a dick, kind of turned him on anyway.

We all have our kinks, don’t we?

The problem he was trying to fight through where Jethro was concerned was that he looked so much like a man, in spite of having that cute little box.

While he was contemplating his next move Jacy had been eyeing him. She could almost hear the gears in his head creaking and grinding, as his mind tried to sort through the dilemma of whether or not he could stick his dick in a honey pot with a man attached to it.

It’s an acquired taste I guess.

While he was filibustering about what he was going to do, Jacy said to him, “You’re taking too long to make up your mind, so I’ll tell you what’s going to happen. You’re going to turn him over and get some of his poontang from behind, as soon as I’m finished with him.” Then she lay on her stomach with her head between Jethro’s legs, and took his clit-dick into her mouth. It wasn’t long enough for her to bob up and down, so she sucked on it like it was a piece of hard candy.

She swished it around in her mouth until she’d gotten her fill of pussy juice, and then she sat her big pussy on it. In Cowgirl position she couldn’t feel anything, so she reversed it. Now the angle was perfect for Jethro’s stubby three and a half inch member to caress Jacy’s g-spot.

Apparently the old adage that it’s not the size of the boat, but the motion of the ocean has some truth to it. In this case you can also add that it matters who’s steering the boat. Even though Jethro had a little dingy, he was able to bring Jacy off, over, and over, and over. When she’d cum all she could, she turned around, leaned down and kissed him on the mouth,. “Now turn over cowboy, and give my hubby some of your snapper,” she said, while biting her lip.

As soon as Jethro was on his hands and knees Mario realized what a genius Jacy was. From the rearview Jethro’s bottom looked like any other split-tail. Mario quickly forgot about the man above the waist and went to town on Jethro’s nappy dugout.

He was working hard, and giving it all he had. He had decent length, but not as much girth as Jacy’s big clit-dick, and she had left Jethro’s fuck hole gaping open.

Regardless, Mario gave him a really good fucking, and Jethro came one last time when Mario shot his wad.

A short time after they’d all showered, Paq’o’s potion went dormant again. Jethro was gentler now, and Jacy returned to being a sweet soccer mom. Mario’s pervy side was well pleased and satisfied again, until the next time he’d want to watch Jacy fuck someone.

Jethro gave Jacy one last hug and a sweet kiss, before Mario walked him to the door, and gave him a handshake and a bro-hug before they said goodnight.

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The pirate ship Peregrine slowed its descent into the atmosphere of Prodosia. It was coming in planetside, staying well away from the Confed base and Tanith’s Gully. While their orders stated they needed to get on the planet, they also needed to be discreet. Dropping in hard and fast was no way to get that done, so they came in quiet, using what stealth tech they had to stay off the scanners.

“I don’t get why we aren’t heading straight to town, pillaging it like we should be!” one of the men on the bridge moaned.

“You heard the orders from Briggs and Zarkazh. We are to play the long game here. Find a way to infiltrate the town, so we can put ourselves in a good position to get close to this ship that thwarted our attack on Veldhern,” the captain told the man.

“Playing spy ain’t my pace, Cap. I’m more of a straight up fighter. Give me a good fight and I’ll do well,” the man grumbled.

“Then you and those of a similar mind will stay and guard the ship. Anyone comes near who isn’t supposed to, you are more than welcome to tear their guts out,” the captain told his subordinate.

“Now that, I can do!” the man grinned as the ship touched down on the surface of the planet.

The men aboard all knew their duties, and they scrambled to be ready to complete them. Once the engines were powering down, a squad of men was in the cargo bay, readying the land rover they had brought with them. The outer bay doors opened and extended a ramp, so the rover could be rolled out.

They would need the vehicle to get close to the town and possibly the base, but that was a secondary objective. Their primary objective was to get as close to the Darkstrider as possible and learn all they could about it. If they could manage to steal the ship, even better! But for now, they had to find a way into Tanith’s Gully that would not arouse suspicion.

Unknown to the rest of the crew, there were several men that were placed aboard this ship deliberately. These men were agents of the Lady Zarkazh, sleepers, who were to stay hidden until a certain task or situation came up. Should certain conditions be met, they were then given a set of orders to carry out immediately. Sometimes the orders were to overtake a ship, assassinate an officer, and a myriad of things that could come up.

No one truly knew what Lady Zarkazh’s aim was, and there were few who truly did know. None who were out in the field were privy to such knowledge, and that was the way the pirate lady kept it. Even then, those who had such information only knew fragments of the whole. She always played things close to the vest, never letting anyone know the entirety of what she was up to.

The Pirate Lady didn’t become one of the fabled pirate lords by being careless. The last time she had been careless, those who crossed her lost their lives. It was not a mistake she would repeat, and it was the building block of her reputation as the ‘Blood Dame’. Many had thought to cross the woman when they sensed a moment of weakness, but that was a serious mistake on their part.

She not only took her pound of flesh when crossed, she also took a good deal of their blood as recompense, if she allowed them to live. No one knew what she did with the blood, and no one cared to know. Many rumors swirled around about what she did with it. Some said she would drink it, others said she bathed in it, among many others.

Zarkazh, for her part, did little to stop the rumors, as they only added to her already fearsome reputation. With her legacy as a fearsome and deadly woman established across the galaxy’s underworld, few would ever dare to be her adversary. If you were, you often didn’t live long enough to regret it, and if you did, often death was preferable.

One particular man, the XO kept this in mind as he set up the encrypted communique for the Pirate Lady. He was aware of a ship of her loyalists that was inbound to the planet and knew that his message would be sent to her from them. In the communique was everything new that had happened until that point, which Zarkazh demanded. She liked to know everything that was going on, as no detail was too small for her.

It took all of two minutes to ready the message and the transceiver he had cobbled together from bits and pieces. The moment it was sent, the XO then rushed through, dismantling it and hiding the pieces in his cabin. Once it was done, he then stepped out of quarters, cool as ice, with none the wiser.

While the man had sent the update his lady had required, he was unsure of how things would play out here. Sure, he had his compatriots here to back him up, but if things went sideways, he wasn’t sure if they’d come out alive. Many of the men aboard this ship were brutes and not logic thinking beings. If they caught him sending messages like this, he wasn’t certain if he or his friends would be able to talk their way out of this.

******************************

The crew that Jolena Sortani had put together under Lady Zarkazh’s orders was already underway to Prodosia. Jolena tekirdağ escort had tasked her most trusted lieutenant, Daphres Mahtarn, with this job. Daphres was not only a skilled pirate and captain, but she also commanded the respect of those around her, new crew members and old.

She had shown that she was not only a competent commander, but one that her crew looked up to. The Naucturi woman could be one hell of a hard ass when pushed, but she often did it in a way that didn’t invoke the crew’s ire. She had demonstrated that she cared for the wellbeing of her crew, and did everything she could to see them survive.

To her, they all mattered for the skills and talents they brought to the crew, but not just that. She valued the loyalty and camaraderie they had together and with such a bond, there was no length they wouldn’t go to, to succeed. As singular beings, they were fallible, weak, breakable, but as a crew, they were unstoppable.

Daphres had just received the communique from Prodosia, copied it, then sent the original message along to Lady Zarkazh. She took a few minutes and read the report, going over everything that was in it. So far, the conflict appeared to be escalating quickly. The natives were putting up a good fight and had even mounted a half decent defense against any incoming attackers.

While they put a damn good effort into defending their homes, it wouldn’t matter if the Confeds brought proper warships into the fight. With warships orbiting the planet, they could bombard the town at their leisure, while taking little in the manner of risk to conquer the world. Why the Human Confederacy was so hellbent on taking this world eluded the woman, but she felt she would figure out why soon enough.

Daphres had her orders, and they were to infiltrate the town of Tanith’s Gully and mingle along its population. Secrecy was paramount for this mission, as Lady Zarkazh had ordered it so. Their mission was twofold once they were inside the town. The first was to find a way to take that ship, the Darkstrider, as a ship that advanced needed to be in their arsenal! If they couldn’t take it, then they were to at least get the schematics for it.

The second reason was one of personal importance to her boss, and that was to locate and capture Dagan Min. While the crew knew of the mission to take him, only she knew the why. Supposedly, Dagan had done something to Lady Zarkazh in the past, and he was to be brought to her to face his punishment.

Daphres knew that punishing those who crossed the lady was a no-brainer, but she wondered why Zarkazh didn’t order the man killed. She didn’t know the reason Zarkazh wanted to punish Captain Min, but she knew it was a personal matter. It was then that she remembered Zarkazh had a penchant for meting out punishments personally. Daphres didn’t envy the man, as she knew the lady could be quite harsh, especially with that temper of hers!

“Arriving at the Voleskar hyperspace waypoint,” the helmswoman told her commander. Daphres smiled as the tunneling glow faded to starlines and they dropped into realspace.

“Excellent! How long before we jump again?” Commander Mahtarn questioned.

“Not even three minutes, ma’am. Just waiting on the new coordinates from the navicomputer,” the helmswoman replied.

In less than two minutes, the helmswoman guided the ship to the route to Prodosia and activated the hyperdrive. Moments later, they were back in hyperspace, on their way to the Abandoned Frontier. As she felt that subtle hint of vertigo that hit her every time they jumped, Daphres tapped at her wrist comms, sending off a covert signal through it. She then smiled when she heard the near-silent chime of acceptance, twice.

“Back in hyperspace, ma’am. Our ETA to Prodosia is just a little less than ten hours,” the helmswoman told her.

“Hmm. Very good! XO, you have command of the ship until my return. I am going to get myself some rest,” Daphres stated as she stood up.

“Yes, ma’am!” her subordinate saluted.

Daphres then turned and headed to the room that was on her left, which was her personal quarters. The door opened and then sealed itself behind her, automatically locking per her direction. Her room was a bit odd as the captain of a group of pirates. The motif of the room was one of birds that came in all shapes and sizes. There were holos and drawings of so many that the holos often cycled through the various species constantly.

She also had a tattoo of one on her back that she had done a while ago and had touched up often. It was of a phoenix, a mythological human bird that was made of fire. Not only did the bird itself look amazing, but the concept of being reborn from the ashes, thus never truly dying, appealed to Daphres. Just as the men who stood by her bed appealed to her in many ways.

“Door, full lock. Privacy mode engage,” Daphres commanded, and the automated pings sounded in the air, letting her know that her command was carried out.

“Gentlemen, tokat escort the slow word is ‘Kestrel’. The safe word is ‘Penguin’. Do you understand what these words mean?” she asked both men.

“Yes, ma’am,” they replied in unison, as they had done this dance with her many times before.

“Very well, then. You two may assume command of me and do whatever you wish to me. You may begin,” she told them with a small smile.

“Well, look at what we have here, Dom! I think she’s an eager little slut who wants to get wrecked!” the Rondathan man stated with a lascivious grin as he pulled Daphres to him, making her gasp at the contact of their bodies.

“I think you might be right, Khale! She does look the part, doesn’t she?” Dominic replied with an equally lecherous smile on his face, as he stepped in behind her, grinding his rapidly hardening dick into the crack of her ass.

Daphres stared up at Dominic, who was the quartermaster of the ship. The man had served with her for some years now and had done well at his post. He made sure that everyone got what they needed, when they needed it. Dominic’s ability to read people and accurately predict their needs was uncanny, which is why he excelled at his position.

Though he had been offered a promotion more than once, he turned it down each time. He would often say that if anyone else did his job, they’d get it wrong. How he had guessed her needs all those years ago mystified her, but she wasn’t complaining. Since their first encounter, she’d made a point to be doing this on the regular and was glad that she did! Daphres didn’t need this now and then. She needed it regularly!

His gray eyes looked into her pink ones, and she saw all the lust and desire he had for her. The man was fit, but lean, his dusky skin pulled tightly over his compact, yet unyielding muscle he had on his frame. The black hair on his head was cut short and styled neatly, almost giving him a clean cut vibe. He wasn’t small, but he wasn’t huge either. He filled a perfect middle ground that left her wanting this man to just have her.

She then felt a hand gently touch her jawline and bring her gaze back to the man in front of her. Khale, like most Rondathans, was possessed of red skin and black hair, with his eyes a glowing, intense yellow. Like the man behind her, he had a strong and rugged jawline, which showed off his masculine features. The smile that played at his lips made him easily as appealing as Dominic, but that wasn’t the only reason.

Unlike Dominic, Khale was bigger, brawnier, but that often came with those who worked in engineering and repairs. Also, the man had a much weaker physiology than most other species, but it was something that he was correcting. A proper diet, rigorous exercise and, of course, genemods, had helped the man adjust to the rigors of working on a ship.

Recently, Khale had become much stronger, as a result of his genemods strengthening his body over time. Over the past few months, his newfound strength had been something that Daphres had enjoyed immensely! Especially when he tanned her rear with his bare hands, which left her begging for more! Daphres felt herself warm up just thinking about it!

“So, what do you say, sweetie? Do you feel like being used by my friend and I? If you don’t, then tough, because we are going to have you in every way we want, and you’re going to love it!” Khale told her, the grating sound in his voice sending goosebumps though her body.

“Hey, Khale! I think she likes the idea!” Dominic said to his friend, as he pushed his hand down past Daphres’ waistband and under her panties. She yipped when she felt the man’s fingers slide up and down her slick pussy lips before he withdrew them. He then put his fingers to his mouth, sucking on the moisture he had taken from her.

“Nice! How does she taste bud?” Khale questioned.

“Like a strawberry milkshake! Sweet and creamy at the same time!” the dark haired human grinned.

“Ooooh!! I need me a taste of that!” Khale growled as he scooped Daphres up and carried her over to the bed.

“W-what will you do to me?” she asked, her voice quavering convincingly.

“I was thinking about something like this!” Khale rumbled as he took the pants that Daphres was wearing and ripped them down the middle.

The tearing sound surprised Daphres as the fabric gave way, exposing her to the man. She still had a pair of underwear on beneath, but they didn’t stay there for long, as they were torn in half as well. Her steaming, dripping pussy was now on display for both men to see, making the woman shiver from the cold. The cold sensation didn’t last long, as Khale put his mouth to her bits, bathing them in the heat of his mouth.

She shuddered with delight as Khale’s lips kissed hers, making her squirm and writhe on the bed. Daphres almost plopped down onto her back, but the adrenaline coursing through her kept her upright. With Khale working his magic tongue on her nethers, trabzon escort it was hard to do anything else other than squirm.

“Hope you haven’t forgotten about me, honey!” Dominic’s gravelly voice told her, as she felt his hands on her chest. His fingers danced along the seams of her shirt, before he took large fistfuls of it and tore it to shreds. Her teal green flesh was on display for him to see, her perky tits drawing his eyes like bees to honey. Dominic grabbed the front of her bra, and with one hand, ripped it from her body.

Normally, Daphres would have been loath to have her clothing destroyed, but what she had worn was old and in need of replacing. She had made sure to wear older or secondhand clothing when she played games like this. Even though Khale was occupied with eating her pussy, he also took the time to peel what was left of her pants off her legs, leaving her completely naked.

“Now, I’m liking what I’m seeing!” Dominic growled as he descended on her sizable mounds, licking, sucking, nipping, and pinching her titflesh. These new sensations, coupled with what Khale’s tongue was doing to her bits, she could feel the familiar sensation of orgasm on the horizon. As a result, Daphres began to lose all sense of time and felt her eyes roll into the back of her skull.

“Hey buddy, I think she likes it! Want some more, honey?” Khale asked, as he stopped his oral ministrations. Daphres simply nodded, too far gone into bliss to even care about what she wanted and how she wanted it. Right now, the only thing that mattered was her reaching that peak of bliss.

Smiling, Khale went back to licking and sucking on Daphres’ honeypot, making the woman squeak as she neared the peak she sought. She was close, so close that she could almost taste it and a few seconds later, she did. Instead of it being something that hit externally, it felt like she was melting from the inside out! The feeling saturated her every cell to where she felt she would turn into a puddle of goo at her men’s feet.

She didn’t know how long it lasted for, but that she lost all track of time because of it was more than enough for her. Daphres blinked a few times, as she could feel like she was being moved about. Shaking her head a few times, Daphres cleared the orgasmic stupor she was in and finally came to. She was on all fours, with Khale behind her, rubbing his cock up and down her slit, while she looked down on Dominic, his thick tool throbbing and in need of tending to.

“Well? It’s not going to get slick on its own! Suck, bitch!” Dominic grated while grabbing a handful of her orange hair, pushing his dick past her lips.

Daphres fought him for a moment, until he put both hands on her head, slowly forcing his dick into her mouth. She pressed her lips tight, and would have held them there, but was then surprised when Khale pushed his cock into her. Her mouth popped open, and that was all the invitation Dominic needed as he drove his meaty cock into her mouth and down her throat.

Eyes bulging in shock, Daphres went with it, letting the human in front of her fuck her mouth, while the Rondathan behind her split her open with that massive tool of his. She gagged slightly, but was still able to breathe all right as the men forcefully spit-roasted her. Daphres registered a bit of pain while they did this, but the pleasure that surged through her outweighed any pain that she felt.

Khale and Dominic took charge of her, making her move for their pleasure. Since they had taken the time to give her some at the start, they took what they wanted from her now. Daphres enjoyed every moment they were using her, making her feel like the cock drunk slut she was. But she only became this woman for these two, and no one else, as there was no one else she could trust like this.

Though what they were doing could be hazardous, they all trusted one another to stay within their limits. If any strayed outside the limits or pushed too far, well, that was what the safe word was for. So far, they had pushed her close to the brink with this, but backed off just enough to where she felt safe. Daphres knew that when it came to these two, her safety was paramount.

“Hey, you want to switch it up?” Khale asked, as he was enjoying sawing in and out of Daphres’ love canal.

“Hmm. I was thinking that we do something different this time. Get below her. I want her ass!” Dominic grinned as he pulled his dick from her mouth. Daphres’ eyes widened for a moment, then she gazed up at Dominic, catching his gaze.

“Kestrel,” she told him quietly, letting him know to go slow with this.

Dominic smiled and nodded, then reached over to the nightstand next to the bend. He opened the drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube as Khale shifted and put Daphres on top of him. Dominic quickly moved behind them, making sure to soak his dick liberally in the lube he found. Once his cock was dripping with it, he squirted a good dollop of lube on the puckered star of her anus, lined up his dick and pressed into her, slowly.

Daphres used her hands to spread her ass cheeks apart, making it easy for Dominic to enter her. He took his time, pressing slowly against her, as she had asked. The pressure back there was intense, as Dominic’s dick tried to find a way in. Not a moment later, she felt the slight pop as the head of his cock entered her backdoor.

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Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

The Children of Dream

Grunash stirred on the floor of his hut and raised himself to standing with a grunt. It had been decades since he last experienced such restful sleep. Though he knew the elves were partially responsible for this, it was difficult for him to admit it even to himself. “For what orc can show vulnerability and remain strong in the sight of the War Father?” he thought.

He sighed and made his way over to the hearthfire, which had burned to ashes in the hours he walked through dreams of his beloved. Rekindling the flames, Grunash clashed a pot and spoon together, heating a meal of tidbits leftover from the night before. The elves stirred from each others’ embrace and rose to join the shaman by the fire.

“Good morrow,” Eleanor said, holding out her hands for warmth. Grunash grunted in response and thrust a bowl of meat and bread crusts at her, which she welcomed and nodded her head in thanks. Grunash repeated the process with Peridur a moment later.

“Eat now, Bloodless Ones,” he said. “You will need all your strength for the foe we shall face today.”

Peridur consumed the repast with relish. “About this foe,” he said, after swallowing a large mouthful. “You’ve been fighting against it for eons. Would you share your knowledge and wisdom of it, so that we might be better equipped to triumph?”

Grunash marveled once again at how this elf reminded him so strongly of his Aelthic and tempered his naturally quarrelous reaction to the elf’s question in memory of his lost love. “I will do this thing,” he said and reached into a pouch that he always had at his waist. Removing another handful of the dust which had transformed the Soulbound into their primal wolfish selves, Grunash instead cast it directly into the flames that heated his cookpot.

As the powder met the heat of the fire, a cloud of shifting shadows rose within the tent. Grunash produced a hand drum from beneath his cot and began a steady hypnotic rhythm upon it. Within the cloud, figures began to move, and the elves realized they were viewing a collective memory belonging to Grunash and the entire race of orcs that the powerful shaman was bringing to life through his magic.

“Orcs were not the only race spawned after that long ago day when the gods wagered amongst themselves,” he said. “Though we are the most hardy and resemble the Great Mother and Father War through our connection to the power of our emotions. These strengths give orcs an advantage both in traditional battle and spiritual warfare.”

Within the cloud, orcish warriors screamed challenges at each other in ritualistic trials, their words remaining silent in Grunash’s memory, but their passion plain to see. One by one, the warriors fought, then fell, not into death as Eleanor first thought. As the shadows twisted and spun, she realized the orcs collapsed after their labors into cots lined up together in many tents, the gathered multitudes of an orcish army. Within moments, they were all fast asleep.

Grunash’s drum continued to beat as, within the vision in the apex of the tent of the fearless orc army, a darker shadow gathered. Insect-like legs emerged from a hole formed in the fabric of reality. A twisted centipede with the head of a dragon pushed into existence from this darkness, an obscene birth from the void.

“The god of dreams is both father and mother to his children,” Grunash recited in time to the drum. “Once they guarded a dream from their maker as it made its way into the minds of the living, gently guiding it from conception to reception, and sheltering its development. They did this as a gift to all sentient beings.”

The monster in the vision twisted its head this way and that, as if scenting for something only it could perceive. After a few moments, it focused on one particular orc warrior and struck so quickly that it would have been invisible, except for the tip of its scorpion-like tail which lingered as it disappeared through the center of the orc’s forehead.

“But no longer,” said Grunash. His pupils dilated as the orc in the vision began to thrash from side to side, tormented from within by a creature in its dreams.

“When the god of dream won the wager on Aelthic and the aurochs,” the shaman said. “In their rage, the goddess of love and the god of war cursed him to perceive the world as a loveless place and to imagine that his enemies were waiting to attack him around every corner.”

“His loneliness and paranoia changed the guardians of dream, his children, both in shape and function. Where once they looked like serpents, slimmer, fantastical counterparts to the great elemental dragons of nature, now they took on the nightmarish aspect of insects within a corpse, feeding on the remnants of despair.”

Within the collective memory, the warrior cried out in his sleep, awakening a few of his fellows in the cots around him. One stood and shook the sleeping orc, but he would not awaken.

The dream-traveling monster sprang out of the sleeping orc’s forehead, invisible erzurum escort to the orcs in the tent, but not to the shaman and the watching Soulbound. On the thing’s scorpion tail, the soul of the warrior was impaled on a barb through his chest. The elves watched with horror as the orc’s spirit was pulled through the rift in reality where the creature had first appeared and the tunnel vanished as if it had never been.

“They are now the Abhors,” Grunash said. He gently set aside his drum and the remembered vision faded into nothingness.

“What happened to the warrior who was taken?” Peridur asked.

“His body remained asleep until it withered and died from lack of nourishment,” Grunash said. “His unconquerable spirit remains alive with all the others who have been taken by the Abhors through the eons of their existence.”

“Where?” Eleanor asked, dread in her voice.

“In the cave,” Grunash replied, solemnly. “Deep within the realms of blood. I have guarded the waking worlds against their encroachment for hundreds of years. But the time for containment has passed. It is there we must go and remove their blight from existence.”

The Battle of the Cave

“What manner of warriors are you?” Grunash said, as he strapped his magical knife securely to his leg in preparation for assuming his animal form.

Peridur glanced at Eleanor before replying. “Our strengths lie in words and music rather than traditional warfare,” he said. “And, the depth of the connection between us is immense- for we are the two who are one.”

“Is this connection passionate?” Grunash asked but continued before Peridur could reply. “We can use that.” He reached into the sack of bone powder he had replenished upon returning to his hut and dusted the elves from head to toe in it.

“The strength of the Abhors lies in their speed and ability to cloak themselves in shadow,” he said as he worked. “You will be a match for them if you embody your primal selves. As a spirit creature, your heightened senses will confound any shadow and your base emotions will fuel your strength.” The Soulbound’s bodies shifted until two enormous wolves, one gray and the other white, stood in the shaman’s hut.

“Show the Abhors no mercy,” Grunash said as his canines elongated and fur burst out of every pore on his body. “The gods themselves have denounced them.” A few moments later, a giant bear thrust its bulk through the too-small door of the cave in which it found itself. Two wolves followed as the bear struck out on a path he knew well from eons of travel.

So it was, the shaman Grunash went to war one final time.

As the shaman and Soulbound neared the entrance to the Cave of Blood, Grunash found his senses being drawn to a different path than the one he was accustomed to taking. The fetid stench of the Abhors came from the way ahead, but an even more powerful smell emerged from a stand of trees to their left.

Hesitancy had not troubled Grunash in the hundreds of years he had been fighting the mutated children of Dream. With scarcely a change in pace, the shaman switched trails and approached the cave from an entirely new angle.

Once they had cleared the tree stand, the orc and elves saw a clearing in which a small but swiftly flowing stream separated them from a new entrance to the Abhor’s cave, one which Grunash had never seen before. He angrily blew air out of his nostrils at the sight.

Hundreds of sleeping souls in the shape of aurochs were being herded by chittering monstrosities into a mammoth hole leading down to fathomless depths below. Contrary to his belief that the Abhors had been dormant for some time, Grunash could clearly see countless tracks leading both to and from the area. The only unmarked areas of ground were where the stream flowed down from the heights above and around the clearing in a semicircle, washing the evidence of the dreamers’ passage away.

How could I have missed something so obvious, the shaman thought to himself. But no matter. The Abhors’ depredations end today!

Grunash rose up on his hind legs and roared a challenge at the creatures before him. The Soulbound raised their muzzles and howled, adding to the cacophony.

Nearly half of the dreamers being directed into the cave startled, reverted from mindless aurochs to their various forms, from elf to orc to human, for a brief moment before being catapulted back into their bodies which lay in slumber all across Arda. If any of the lucky dreamers considered that night during the rest of their lives, they dismissed it as nothing more than a nightmare.

But the true nightmare of what would come to be known to the elf chroniclers as ‘the battle of the cave’ was just beginning.

Deprived of their dreaming quarry, the Abhors in front of the cave rose up onto their hind legs and screeched, loud enough to cause Peridur and Eleanor to flinch as the monsters’ fury assaulted their ear drums.

Through hundreds eskişehir escort of minor skirmishes with the Abhors, Grunash knew their usual reaction to confrontation in the shadow realm- rearing back in disbelief and rage. As the elves hesitated on the ridge, he sprang into action, charging down the slope and throwing himself onto the nearest Abhor. His claws raked the monster’s body from beneath its dragon head down its soft belly to its scorpion tail.

The creature’s outraged shriek grew higher in pitch for a moment before its body exploded outwards in a concussive release of energy. The spirit weapon, Auroch’s Bane, glittered in the special sheath that Grunash had constructed so that he was able to carry it in his shamanistic animal form. The red gem seemed to absorb some of the energy created by the death of its ancient foe, and it started to gleam in the handle, emitting a bright light that drew all eyes to it.

Taking advantage of the distraction caused by the shaman’s charge, Peridur and Eleanor threw themselves into the fray. The massive gray wolf approached an Abhor whose insectile legs skittered across the dust of the plain, leaving hypnotic patterns in its wake. The wolf snarled and leapt for the Abhor’s neck, looking for a place to sink its massive teeth into its throat.

While her mate came at it from the front, the white wolf dodged nimbly between the dozens of other monsters who had been fixated by the red light of Auroch’s Bane. With a growl, the white wolf attacked the gray wolf’s target, clasping the creature’s scorpion tail in her mighty jaws and pulling it viciously to the side. The lower half came off in her teeth, filling her mouth with the taste of muddy ashes.

Meanwhile, Peridur performed the same tearing motion with the upper half of the monster’s neck and lower jaw. The Abhor seemed to sink into itself before exploding into errant dream energy. Peridur and Eleanor were knocked off their feet by the small explosion but quickly recovered, seeking confirmation the other was safe before turning to face the remaining foe, all of which were stalking the giant bear with the spirit weapon shining on his back like a red star.

Though his skills in battle were unmatched by any other shaman left in existence, even Grunash could not defend himself against dozens of Abhors. Despite his valiant efforts, the creatures were grinding down the bear’s energy with lightning fast strikes of their sharp teeth and pointed tails. Bleeding from dozens of wounds, Grunash swung his claws back and forth, roaring his defiance first as a bear, but then, as his energy flagged even lower, he changed back into his orcish form.

“Father War,” he screamed. “Prepare your halls, your son comes to you at last!” He reached to his hip and withdrew the Auroch’s Bane, which was now shining so brilliantly that the Soulbound were forced to avert their eyes lest they risk blindness.

With a final war cry, Grunash used both hands to drive the sacred knife up to the hilt of the creature’s head in front of him, taking a scorpion tail strike full in the back as he did so. His momentum carried him into the body of the Abhor he had stabbed, and the shaman and his last foe fell together in a final embrace.

Peridur and Eleanor were harrying the heels of the multiple Abhors in front of them, but were unable to get close enough to help the shaman, his thick blood falling to the plain and covering the handle of his knife, which remained in his enemy’s corpse. As he fell, the elves found themselves back in their customary forms- their primal selves disappearing as Grunash’s consciousness faded.

The Soulbound ran for each other as the Abhors turned their attention from the one intruder to the two remaining. Eleanor had the notes of a shield song rising in her throat, when the gem on top of Auroch’s Bane exploded outward in a burst of energy so bright that left tracers in her eyesight.

For a moment, all was still in the realm of shadows. Then, the soul of a hero from ages past stepped out of the gem fragments. He had hair the color of the night sky and was dressed in leather, covered front and back with the menacing designs orc warriors bore on their armor. In his hand, he bore a spear made of oak with a bright blade shining on its end.

Despite these other signs, Eleanor didn’t believe it until the warrior opened his eyes, revealing silver irises that gleamed as if they carried starlight within.

“Aelthic,” she breathed and then many things began to happen all at once.

There was a roar and a rumbling which shook the ground and clicked Eleanor’s teeth together. Then a veritable horde of Abhors poured from the entrance of the cave to join the monsters on the plain. Peridur and Eleanor stood back-to-back, he raising his deadly bow to shoot arrow after arrow into the encroaching monsters and she singing a song of protection and defense with the two who shared one soul as its center. The Soulbound stood gaziantep escort like a rock in the surf while the Abhors broke against Eleanor’s magical barrier in waves.

Aelthic assessed the battlefield in one glance and began to move with the grace of a dancer, slaughtering everything in his path. His spear spun effortlessly through one Abhor after another, more like an extension of his own body than a separate weapon. He sang as he moved, an ancient dirge to the god of War that Peridur had read in the histories but never heard performed as all who had known it had perished in the distant past.

Between the song and his deadly movements, Aelthic’s progress took on a hypnotic quality and Eleanor found her limbs growing heavy in an approaching trance as she watched him. With an effort of will, she pulled her attention away from the hero as Peridur called her name.

“Look at the fallen,” he said, drawing his bowstring back to his ear once more. She sought out Grunash, lying with frightening stillness among the ever-increasing corpses of his enemies, and gasped aloud. The incarnate souls of elves, orcs, and humans were stepping out of the bodies of the slain Abhors, much as Aelthic had appeared in the destruction of the gem of the spirit weapon.

As the souls achieved a tangible presence in the shadow realm, they took up the dirge of the god of War and added their strength to the battle against the waiting Abhors, which still numbered in the hundreds despite Aelthic’s nearly constant slaughter.

The reincarnated warriors looked joyous as they sang and hacked their way through the monsters. And with each fallen foe, a dozen new allies emerged to continue the fight. In moments, the tide was turning in favor of the Soulbound. Nothing could stop Aelthic’s progress nor the spirits who followed him.

Inevitably, as it seemed to Eleanor, Aelthic’s mighty spear skewered the last of the Abhors and a sigh seemed to pass through the warriors gathered there. The silver-eyed hero walked to the center of the throng and raised his spear above his head. “Father War granted you vengeance against the monsters who cowardly killed you in your sleep,” he said, his voice effortlessly traveling to all who stood on the plain. “Warborn, you have earned your rest.”

As he lowered his spear, the souls began to fade from the shadow realm. One moment, Eleanor stood in the center of hundreds of warriors and the next, they were gone. She ran to the fallen shaman only to find that his lover had gotten there first, moving with his deceptively swift speed from one corner of the battlefield to the other.

Aelthic had gathered a thin foreleg from every creature he killed, when he managed that Eleanor had no idea, but as he rolled Grunash over, he presented the grisly trophies to the shaman as if they were a bouquet of the finest flowers. “I have avenged you,” he said simply, kissing the orc’s brow.

Eleanor was surprised to see Grunash’s eyes were still open. “Aelthic,” he wheezed, coughing up blood. “How I have missed you.”

“I never left your side,” Aelthic said, removing the Auroch’s Bane from the Abhor’s throat where it was still lodged. “Such was my grief at being parted from you, Father War granted my request to stay with you until it was time for you to pass over into the lands of death. I did so by inhabiting the gem of your spirit weapon, but I was not allowed to show my presence.” The hero knelt once more at Grunash’s side. “For some things are beyond the ability of even the gods to grant.”

Grunash’s eyes widened in surprise. “You never left me…” he said with a sigh, then the ancient shaman took one more breath and was gone. Aelthic folded the orc’s hands on his chest over the remains of his enemies.

“Despite dying thousands of years ago,” he murmured, so quietly that Eleanor almost couldn’t hear him. “You, my beloved Warborn, will arrive in Father War’s halls before me.” He stood from Grunash’s side with a final, gentle caress to the orc’s face. “Though you will not have to wait long.”

Aelthic turned to Peridur and Eleanor, who stood hand-in-hand, with the remnants of a once-proud race in pieces around them. “You must end this,” he said. “The fight which I won so long ago created a schism between the gods. Father War and the Great Mother never relented in their amnity towards Dream for winning the bet and causing them to lose face in front of the pantheon of immortals.”

“In revenge, the goddess cursed him so that he could feel no love from others,” Aelthic said. “And the god of war cursed him to see conflict all around. In despair and confusion, the god of dreams retreated into his own private nightmare, from which the Abhors arose to prey upon the dreams of the living.”

As the hero spoke, the earth shook once more and a pair of enormous horns began to rise from the dust of the plain. With a crash like thunder, the skeleton of a mammoth aurochs unearthed itself from beneath the Abhors’ cave. It shivered and shook for a moment, then stood quite still, as if waiting.

“Wake the god of Dream from his living nightmare,” Aelthic said. “Grunash waits for me in the halls of Father War, and I will tarry here no longer.”

“Wait,” Eleanor said. “I thought the halls of the god of war were reserved for his most favored children, the Warborn. How is it that you, an elf, will gain entrance?”

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