(Continued from Insatiable)
Two days earlier
A pair of eyes watched the Idelson estate from the shadows. The owner of that pair of eyes had stalked the trail of the vampires to the place a little late to spare the horror that had gone on inside. The bumbling guards had already entered the place and were likely making a bigger mess. The vampire scent was everywhere, though, so they must have been near. The hunter stole away in the shadows, waiting for her intuition to tell her the time was right.
Watching the open window on the top floor of the house, the hunter saw two shadowy forms leap out of it and diffuse into a smoky cloud. Cursing her inaction, the hunter sprang to her feet and cast a cone of freezing ice toward the gaseous forms in a desperate attempt to debilitate the two vampires. One transformed mid-air and fell to the ground, a sickening thud sounding where the grayish body impacted the cobbles. The other cloud disappeared into the growing morning air.
The hunter cautiously edged near to the fallen vampire, silver-edged sword drawn and ready to attack. The vampire sprang to life and lunged at the hunter, nearly knocking her off her feet, yet she had expected just such a thing to happen, and so was ready for this vile creature's murderous attempt on her very existence. She quickly raised her sword to relieve the thing of its head, but it was too swift and she found herself backing up to defend against nightmarish claws as they grasped for her throat.
She stumbled on a raised cobblestone and went to the ground, barely avoiding striking her head on the cold, wet, and terribly unforgiving surface of the street. The vampire fell forward with her, ready to sink its teeth into her but she rolled to the side at the last moment and it crashed into the street below, its face impacting with the raised curb. She jumped to her feet with a cat's grace as the bloodsucking vermin shook its head to clear the pain of colliding with the stone. Its grotesque member was erect and its lips spread in a grin, obviously still thinking her to be easy prey.
There was a loud crash from the building behind them as a door flung open, leaving the hollow interior of the looming structure to reveal a striking and lithe figure in the doorway, white robes billowing around it, and its hands raised high. A high-pitched voice screamed at the vampire. The hunter recognized it as a ward against evil, used by some clerics to vanquish the undead.
The thing turned its head to view this new threat and the hunter used the distraction to swing her sword. It followed a sweeping arc up toward the back of its head, silver edging connecting with its skin and slicing through the neck with the ease of a great ship plying through the waters of a becalmed cove. It fell, to the ground, twitching, a black ichor flowing from the stump above its shoulders. The hunter sank the blade up into its groin, separating its detestable member from its dying body and piercing the heart as the blade traveled up through the torso.
The hunter picked up the vampire's recently disjoined fleshstick and put it in a dark cloth bag she had produced from a satchel hanging on her side, and promptly placed it back, hiding it from the prying eyes of the priestess. The once solid vampire turned to heap of oily, grey ash.
"Why, ever, Miss, would you do such a thing?" The priestess implored, a look of abject terror on her face, indicating her satchel and its gruesome contents.
"This foul creature was not of your goddess, sister, what worry should one such as yourself have about what I do to its filthy carcass?" The hunter pulled the silver-embroidered edges of her hood closer to her face to better hide the smile she wore at the priestess's discomfort.
"Well," the holy woman stammered, "its unseemly! Now you've touched, and even possess, the dark parts of a most evil creature!"
Mostly under her breath, the hunter muttered, "It wouldn't be the worst thing I've possessed," and walked away toward the Idelson manor.
The priestess followed, hesitantly. "Please, Miss..."
Ignoring the comely priestess, the hunter continued to the manor and approached the tall wooden door. She heard the commotion of someone running inside and quickly ducked behind a tall, thick shrub to avoid being seen by who or what had caused the commotion. She wasn't quite hidden completely when the door burst open and a pair of humans, a young boy and a woman, somewhat older, who looked to have gone through quite an ordeal ran through it.
The hunter remained hidden, making a mental note of the direction the two had gone. When they had just disappeared from sight, a large, hulking, half-dressed man ran out and appeared to be looking for them. She wasn't sure how that related to the vampire presence, but she needed to get inside and see what was going on. She stole through the open door and used the shadows of the interior to conceal herself as she got her bearings.
Her keen senses detected the smell of blood coming from somewhere above so she stealthily padded up the first staircase she came upon. The odor of death on the upper floor hit her as soon as she neared the first open doorway. Silently drawing her sword, she crept nearer, listening intently for any activity, and hearing none.
The hunter steeled her nerves and entered the room. She had hunted and slain many of the murderous vampire-kind, yet she wasn't readily prepared for the grotesque mutilation she found in the room. Blood was everywhere, along with the horrendously mutilated body of some person. She stepped around the mess, skillfully avoiding trodding on the blood that was nearly everywhere.
The scene was highly unusual to the hunter. Vampires usually didn't carry on to this degree of malevolence. Their objective was to turn as many poor souls as possible into their slaves, not kill and mutilate them beyond recognition.
The smell of sex, blood, and excrement permeated the air. Clearly, the creatures had spent some time here savaging the hapless thing that was previously human. Judging by the mess of bodily fluids on the bed, another person was here as well. No other carcasses remained aside from the one on the floor, so she could only imagine, someone must have gotten away. A light breeze from the open window thankfully relieved the hunter of the odor for a moment, and, looking around intently, she spotted a bloody mix of bare footprints and boot prints leaving the room through another door.
She followed the prints into another room, a bedroom with an adjoining parlor and bathing room. The room was in disarray, as if there had been a scuffle here and blood stained the floor here and there, but the scene was nothing like the earlier room, although the smell of sex was strong here as well. The hunter had a strong feeling that the bumbling guards had something to do with this, rather than the erstwhile vampires.
"Someone pulled this out," she said to herself as she picked a spent and bloodied crossbow bolt off the floor and inspected it. "It must've been an unsteady shot, or an inexperienced one."
Bloody hand prints on the wall and bits of human excrement in the the corner told a tale of possible anal rape. This scene in this room was puzzling, given what had gone on in the last room she had been in. Had the guards attacked one of the victims in here, who had fought back before or after being raped?
The thought was detestable. It was time to get a move on. As she was leaving the room, she caught a glint of light on the floor; a locket. She picked it up and opened it. In the dim light, the hunter could make out the vaguely feline face of a beautiful woman with long white hair. Pocketing the locket in one of the many pouches adorning her outfit, she quickly and silently rushed out of the room, treading quietly down the stairs without a sound, and out the still open front door. The hunter had some witnesses to find, so she ventured hurriedly off in the same direction as the couple who had fled the building earlier.
To Be Continued...
Wednesday, August 29, 2018
Friday, January 6, 2017
Insatiable
(Continued from Laerelia)
A slim, naked grey figure stood in the moonlight, his long, raven black hair swaying in a gentle breeze, brushing against his bared back. He stood with one leg propped up on a nearby rock, watching the silver-haired mage and her two captives disappear into the darkness of the crypt. As the silent creature listened, it could hear the mage invoke protective wards on the opening.
The figure moaned softly as a tongue darted into his anus and a feminine face from a second grey creature was buried between his soft and pliable ass-cheeks. The standing creature focused his will and his penis disappeared. A vagina formed from the smooth skin and grew moist with the actions of his partner's capable tongue. His skin grew pale and his body proportions changed, getting smaller. His facial features took on the appearance of the silver-haired mage that had just disappeared into the mountain crypt.
Her partner adopted the form of the purple haired mage who had been captured. The erstwhile grey creature, now a beautiful elf, reached down to her wet pussy that was aching to be touched. So she indulged it merrily. While she explored the inner recesses of the silver-haired elf's wet, fleshy cleft with her ever-morphing tongue, she explored her own inner recesses with her fingers. She willed them into various shapes to more adequately pleasure the soft folds of her hungry sex.
She smelled the sour sweat from the puckered muscle of her partner's backside as her nose rested firmly in it, her tongue growing long and thick, exploring the depths of a new, delectable, and soft cavern. The recipient of her wanton lust could no longer even stand as her slender form was wracked with orgasms and her knees buckled, forcing her down on them, face down, her rear up in the air, her treasures splayed wide for her sexual tormentor's delving.
The elf of the violet mane wasted no time in taking advantage, leaving off her oral adventuring. She grabbed the smarting maiden's hips and thrust her own pelvis toward the waiting slippery and puffy vulva, her prominent pubic bone pressing into the lips tightly. In uncontrolled ecstasy, she began to morph again, taking on the shape of the half-ogre she'd seen enthralled, carrying the helpless mage whose form she, the grey creature, now wore. A great pendulous penis grew out from her pelvis and into the unsuspecting vaginal canal of her rapt elven companion, spreading the tight muscles taught without warning.
Ariana's doppelganger howled in pain as her pelvis was impaled by the monstrous, warty, half-ogre cock. The one who formerly wore Laerelia's countenance jammed a large, wet, hairy thumb into the tiny ass while pounding her with the meaty torture device now growing from its crotch. What might have been blood seeped from a torn vaginal opening as delicate tissue tore under the pressure of the giant member.
The rape was savage, but the assaulted creature was not without defense. He morphed into the form of a wyvern and kicked the half-ogre off and onto the ground, stunning the other shapeshifter into his natural form just as the wyvern's tail was near to stinging the half-ogre's erect fleshstick. The thin, grey creature was naked, lying on her back, eyes wide in terror at the giant creature about to kill her.
"No!" She screamed, and held her hands up in supplication.
The wyvern morphed back into the creature with the silky, black hair and came to a halt in front of his fellow.
"Too often, you let your desires get the best of you, slave," he said, a wicked gleam in his black eyes.
The supplicating thing cast its eyes downward. "Yes, master. The energy here is so great. I could not help myself. I am yours to do with as you wish."
"Of course you are, you always are. And you would do well to better control yourself, my pet," he said, thinking back to the slaughter of the ill-fated lord in Morisham. "My patience grows weary of your outbursts."
The master morphed into the slim, pale grey form he normally wore, sharp pains reverberating through tissues reforming themselves after the lusty attack of his slave. His pet quickly lay supine on the hard ground, naked, expecting her master's wrath to come next.
To her surprise, and chagrin, her master turned, wordlessly, and walked toward the mountain side. She lifted her head and for a moment, she watched the delicate features of his back and the muscles of his bare ass move in the moonlight as he walked, the shadow of a penis between them calling to her eagerness.
She got slowly to her feet, brushing dirt off her rump and back. She flashed black eyes at her master's back, pained at the sudden indifference, but secure in knowing that two could play that game. Bound, she followed him toward the mountain, putting aside her feelings for another time.
The leather collar around her neck reminded her sharply of whom she belonged to and to whom she was indebted. She allowed herself the small consolation that at least she was still alive, more than could be said of the rest of her clan. Her master and his followers had killed them all, each and every member of her clan had succumbed to a death more violent than the previous. It was an act of mercy they said, for perceived crimes committed many ages ago.
She, herself had been held by four of the pale grey traitors while a long cock was forced down her throat, her head held at an angle to facilitate its unmitigated entry into her body. In and out it went unerringly in its purpose. She felt as if she were going to drown for lack of air and the horror and indignity of it all. Her legs were spread, each ankle held fast by the treacherous grasp of something that was once of her own people but which was unrecognizable to her.
Many things that she could not see were inserted into her and fire burst inside her womb while stars erupted in her eyes as the last of her air was used in her struggle. When her body went limp, one of the creatures had pulled his penis from her throat and a cleric of some dark god revived her, only to repeat the process again and again.
She was naked, lying in the mud, barely alive, in pain and bleeding from multiple wounds when the master had found her the following morning. Her short-cropped hair was filled with grey mud and her body was covered with it. He had seen her back rise and fall with her breath, and stopped to lift her chin with a toe.
She had opened her eyes, not sure what to expect and not entirely surprised when she saw a naked grey foot, attached to a naked grey leg, leading up to a naked grey male. His slightly aroused penis intruded between her and his face, but she could see that he was the one who had led the invasion of her clan's encampment. He then simply placed the collar she still wore around her neck and whispered into her ear, "you are mine."
She was the sole survivor of that horrid night and she lived every day with thoughts of revenge. Each day brought new, if failed, opportunities to avenge the ills done to her and her clan. She had but to bide her time. The insatiable hunger for sex inside her was her constant and only companion. It was a feeling unknown before the invasion and she felt a slave to it, but she knew there must be a way to use it to her advantage. She also knew that her master was also a slave to it, to some degree, and that gave her power.
"Yes, soon," she thought.
(Next: The Hunter)
A slim, naked grey figure stood in the moonlight, his long, raven black hair swaying in a gentle breeze, brushing against his bared back. He stood with one leg propped up on a nearby rock, watching the silver-haired mage and her two captives disappear into the darkness of the crypt. As the silent creature listened, it could hear the mage invoke protective wards on the opening.
The figure moaned softly as a tongue darted into his anus and a feminine face from a second grey creature was buried between his soft and pliable ass-cheeks. The standing creature focused his will and his penis disappeared. A vagina formed from the smooth skin and grew moist with the actions of his partner's capable tongue. His skin grew pale and his body proportions changed, getting smaller. His facial features took on the appearance of the silver-haired mage that had just disappeared into the mountain crypt.
Her partner adopted the form of the purple haired mage who had been captured. The erstwhile grey creature, now a beautiful elf, reached down to her wet pussy that was aching to be touched. So she indulged it merrily. While she explored the inner recesses of the silver-haired elf's wet, fleshy cleft with her ever-morphing tongue, she explored her own inner recesses with her fingers. She willed them into various shapes to more adequately pleasure the soft folds of her hungry sex.
She smelled the sour sweat from the puckered muscle of her partner's backside as her nose rested firmly in it, her tongue growing long and thick, exploring the depths of a new, delectable, and soft cavern. The recipient of her wanton lust could no longer even stand as her slender form was wracked with orgasms and her knees buckled, forcing her down on them, face down, her rear up in the air, her treasures splayed wide for her sexual tormentor's delving.
The elf of the violet mane wasted no time in taking advantage, leaving off her oral adventuring. She grabbed the smarting maiden's hips and thrust her own pelvis toward the waiting slippery and puffy vulva, her prominent pubic bone pressing into the lips tightly. In uncontrolled ecstasy, she began to morph again, taking on the shape of the half-ogre she'd seen enthralled, carrying the helpless mage whose form she, the grey creature, now wore. A great pendulous penis grew out from her pelvis and into the unsuspecting vaginal canal of her rapt elven companion, spreading the tight muscles taught without warning.
Ariana's doppelganger howled in pain as her pelvis was impaled by the monstrous, warty, half-ogre cock. The one who formerly wore Laerelia's countenance jammed a large, wet, hairy thumb into the tiny ass while pounding her with the meaty torture device now growing from its crotch. What might have been blood seeped from a torn vaginal opening as delicate tissue tore under the pressure of the giant member.
The rape was savage, but the assaulted creature was not without defense. He morphed into the form of a wyvern and kicked the half-ogre off and onto the ground, stunning the other shapeshifter into his natural form just as the wyvern's tail was near to stinging the half-ogre's erect fleshstick. The thin, grey creature was naked, lying on her back, eyes wide in terror at the giant creature about to kill her.
"No!" She screamed, and held her hands up in supplication.
The wyvern morphed back into the creature with the silky, black hair and came to a halt in front of his fellow.
"Too often, you let your desires get the best of you, slave," he said, a wicked gleam in his black eyes.
The supplicating thing cast its eyes downward. "Yes, master. The energy here is so great. I could not help myself. I am yours to do with as you wish."
"Of course you are, you always are. And you would do well to better control yourself, my pet," he said, thinking back to the slaughter of the ill-fated lord in Morisham. "My patience grows weary of your outbursts."
The master morphed into the slim, pale grey form he normally wore, sharp pains reverberating through tissues reforming themselves after the lusty attack of his slave. His pet quickly lay supine on the hard ground, naked, expecting her master's wrath to come next.
To her surprise, and chagrin, her master turned, wordlessly, and walked toward the mountain side. She lifted her head and for a moment, she watched the delicate features of his back and the muscles of his bare ass move in the moonlight as he walked, the shadow of a penis between them calling to her eagerness.
She got slowly to her feet, brushing dirt off her rump and back. She flashed black eyes at her master's back, pained at the sudden indifference, but secure in knowing that two could play that game. Bound, she followed him toward the mountain, putting aside her feelings for another time.
The leather collar around her neck reminded her sharply of whom she belonged to and to whom she was indebted. She allowed herself the small consolation that at least she was still alive, more than could be said of the rest of her clan. Her master and his followers had killed them all, each and every member of her clan had succumbed to a death more violent than the previous. It was an act of mercy they said, for perceived crimes committed many ages ago.
She, herself had been held by four of the pale grey traitors while a long cock was forced down her throat, her head held at an angle to facilitate its unmitigated entry into her body. In and out it went unerringly in its purpose. She felt as if she were going to drown for lack of air and the horror and indignity of it all. Her legs were spread, each ankle held fast by the treacherous grasp of something that was once of her own people but which was unrecognizable to her.
Many things that she could not see were inserted into her and fire burst inside her womb while stars erupted in her eyes as the last of her air was used in her struggle. When her body went limp, one of the creatures had pulled his penis from her throat and a cleric of some dark god revived her, only to repeat the process again and again.
She was naked, lying in the mud, barely alive, in pain and bleeding from multiple wounds when the master had found her the following morning. Her short-cropped hair was filled with grey mud and her body was covered with it. He had seen her back rise and fall with her breath, and stopped to lift her chin with a toe.
She had opened her eyes, not sure what to expect and not entirely surprised when she saw a naked grey foot, attached to a naked grey leg, leading up to a naked grey male. His slightly aroused penis intruded between her and his face, but she could see that he was the one who had led the invasion of her clan's encampment. He then simply placed the collar she still wore around her neck and whispered into her ear, "you are mine."
She was the sole survivor of that horrid night and she lived every day with thoughts of revenge. Each day brought new, if failed, opportunities to avenge the ills done to her and her clan. She had but to bide her time. The insatiable hunger for sex inside her was her constant and only companion. It was a feeling unknown before the invasion and she felt a slave to it, but she knew there must be a way to use it to her advantage. She also knew that her master was also a slave to it, to some degree, and that gave her power.
"Yes, soon," she thought.
(Next: The Hunter)
Thursday, December 29, 2016
Laerelia
(Continued from Pale Master)
"Why won't this work? All the motes are right," murmured a slim elven mage with purplish-silver hair, hair that shone brilliantly under the light of the full moon, Shonil. Laerelia Eludrar, formerly of house Aumoran, pored over a thick, rune-inscribed tome in a largely forgotten cemetery under the bright light of a cantrip. She was attempting to determine where her necromantic spell had gone wrong.
The slim and shapely necromancer had moved much earth to reach a particular skeleton buried there a century or more before, and she was determined to learn the secrets of its life. She wanted particularly to know how it, a half-ogre known as Detrats, the Dark, had led to the destruction of her family's long-respected house before meeting his own grisly end and ended up buried in this run-down burial yard.
She was but a child when her family's house had fallen into disgrace and was beset upon by angry mobs, eager to take revenge upon the house they felt had left their city in tatters after the Moyan Guild Wars, wars that had supposedly been fomented by certain members of noble House Aumoran and unspecified and unnameable dark forces that wished to destroy the holy city of Moya altogether in their jealousy of its splendors.
Moya had survived the wars, but House Aumoran had not. All of its inhabitants had been killed save for Laerelia, who had been hiding in a cellar when the angry mob had started lobbing torches at the roof. Its ruins, still untouched after a hundred or so years, still sat as a crumbling black mark on a citythat many, mostly its own inhabitants, considered to be the fairest city in all of Naturna. Its columns stood still, as well as its walls, yet the upper floors and windows were stained black by the heat of the massive conflagration that had consumed it. It bore no roof and anyone with the nerve to enter the cursed place would have found anything non-flammable still in its original place, untouched by time.
Laerelia shook her head to clear her thoughts of the past, unable to suppress a shiver as the chill of the night air seeped in through the open folds of her black velvet robes. She pulled its hood over her head, shadows enveloping the fair features of her thin face. She concentrated again on the spell, reading the arcane words aloud to the lonely and still air around her. Power welled and she felt the ecstasy of magic course through her. She bent her will to channel the energy into a form that would imbue the skeleton in the open grave before her with animated life, binding its soul to the thing's empty skull.
With puissant glee, she felt the spell's subtle sigils coalesce and the blue-white streams of energy flow through her fingertips, a familiar rush of lust flowing outward from her body and down into the grave. The energy became flames as it enshrouded the skeletal remains. The bones began to orient themselves as they would have existed in life as the flame flowed around them. Then, suddenly, the flames disappeared, sucked into the skull as a stream of water into a drain.
Then, all was dark. Nothing moved. The skeletal remains sat still, the animation seeming to fail. Laerelia growled in frustration at yet another failure to reanimate this heap of rotten bones. She turned around and placed her tome on a flat stone near her. She was exhausted. The multiple failures had nearly depleted her energy stores and she was near to collapsing.
A coldness deeper than that of the night air, approaching from behind her brought her to immediate attention, fear gripping her heart.
A deep, raspy voice spoke menacingly. "What Eludrar has ripped my soul from that disembodied torture of Purgatory and placed it in this shambling parody of life?"
Laerelia turned quickly, just in time to see the formerly inanimate skeleton very near to her face, its bones surrounded by the glowing outline of its former living self, a dark-haired, dark-eyed and hideous half-ogre, its human features giving it no measure of grace.
Seemingly out of nowhere its hand encircled her throat and shoved her back and down onto the rocks where her spell tome lay. The pale orb, Shonil, hovered in the sky behind the monster hovering over her, outlining its face in darkness. The once-living creature was easily twice her size and she fought against its crushing force.
"Answer me, witch," it growled angrily as its grip around her throat tightened. She struggled in the mighty grip of the thing, unable to form words with a throat whose supply of air was being cut off slowly. Her lips began to tingle and she tore at the animated horror's wrists desperately.
"My, you're a pretty one aren't you," it taunted. "Been many the age since I tasted an elf maiden, it has."
It, no, he, she noticed with growing terror as it unlaced its glowing outline of trousers with its free hand and let a massive and warty ogre organ tumble out, its own weight pulling it groundward despite its erect state. Its ghostly member, nearly the size of one of her arms, was now freed of the constraining spectral breeches. It used the same free hand to tear open her robes and tunic, continuing on to yank off her deerskin trousers while she struggled to remain conscious.
It stared at her bared body in obvious wanton hunger, her pale skin illuminated in the light of Shonil. It ran its gaze over her soft breasts, touching them roughly with a pallid and almost transparent hand. She felt the tip of its oversized erection press against her smooth vulva as she finally, mercifully succumbed to the lack of air and her world went black.
Ariana ascended the stairs leading from her caverns to a crypt that led to the outside world. The steps were many and dark, and water trickled over them, dripping from various sources in the ceiling where water worked its way through the ground above. She worked the gears in a complex locking mechanism and soon the imposing stone door at the top of the stairs swung outward into the crypt itself.
Along both sides of the mausoleum beyond the ancient earthen passageway were stone shelves containing sarcophagi whose contents Ariana had removed many eons prior. Those corpses had been some of Ariana's earliest experiments in magically-animated necrophilia. They were now long dust on the floor of her cavern below. Her soft footfalls made small prints in the dust of the floor as she strode out through the stone chamber, her black robes flowing behind her.
Lost in thought, she opened the steel portcullis guarding the crypt entrance, its many magical locks giving way to her touch instantly. It squealed loudly as it opened and cool, dry night air greeted Ariana's face as she left the confines of the crypt.
Almost immediately,her sharp elven ears picked up the sounds of a grunting male. Ariana quickly cast a darkvision spell on herself and moved silently in the shadows toward where the sound had emanated. Rounding a tall obelisk, she made out a ghostly, hulking skeletal form bent over what appeared to be a female of some sort, judging by the smooth curves of the pale legs on either side of the spectral form's hips.
It seemed to be fumbling with something and wasn't aware of Ariana moving silently to a position directly behind it. She placed a hand upon its side and murmured a single word. "Dominate."
As she uttered the word, the creature stiffened in place and didn't move.
"Go, stand by the obelisk, right there," she said and pointed to the obelisk that had hidden her approach. The beast, a half-ogre by its looks, struggled to go to the obelisk, powerless to resist her undead domination, and constrained by the breeches around its ankles. She focused her will on commanding the creature while her gaze lingered for a moment on its ogre-sized cock. She bound it magically to the obelisk while she studied the half-naked form lying on the rocks.
The ogre didn't appear to have harmed the beautiful, purple-haired elf, Ariana learned after some close inspection. She leaned in close to Laerelia's face, the pale master's silver hair falling over and around the unconscious mage, and breathed a word into her ear. Laerelia's eyelids fluttered open and she gasped, her hands going to her throat, expecting to find the sinister undead ogre's hands there. Seeing Ariana's lovely but haunted face leaning over her instead, she caught her breath and drew her robes around her, struggling to sit up and pull her trousers up. Ariana laid a cool hand on the surprised necromancer's naked breastbone and gently stayed her.
"Wh...who are you," she asked. Ariana smiled and backed away, slightly folding her pale hands in her robes.
"I am Ariana Blueheart, Pale Master of the Moyan mountain crypts," Ariana said, bowing her head slightly.
The magically bound ogre spat. "A Pale Master, of course. You fucking witch, release me, and my dark lord will make your death quick."
Ariana smirked and made a gesture with her hand. Detrats, the Dark's glowing face twisted in pain and he howled."
Laerelia eyed Ariana, then the half-ogre, in awe at the power emanating from the silver-haired elf's simple gesture. The ghoul she'd struggled to raise, then failed to control, once raised, was powerless under the influence of this mysterious and divinely exquisite woman standing before her.
Laerelia quickly finished lacing up her pants. She decided to cast aside her torn blouse, replacing it with just her robes and drawing them in close around her and tying them with a black cord.
"Ariana, I beg of you. This creature holds information I seek. Information as to why and how my family's house fell after the Moyan Guild wars. Indeed, I raised him solely for that purpose, but was unable to control him after he had been animated."
Ariana raised an eyebrow at the young necromancer. "You raised this thing," she asked in an almost approving fashion. "I'm perplexed as to how you managed to imbue it with the ghostly essence of its former self. Normally, they are merely rattling boneboxes with a voice."
"I will share with you the spell I used if only you'd grant me the boon of questioning this creature for a time," Laerelia said, supplicatingly, recognizing the sheer amount of power within the wizardess who so effortlessly held the wraithlike ogre in thrall.
"Yes," Ariana said silkily, "you will share the spell with me, whether you like it or not." She reached out to Laerelia with a skeletal hand and placed decayed fingers on the white skin of her bare neck. Ariana spoke a word softly and from those skeletal fingers came a numbing sensation as her body was overcome with paralysis. Fear coursed through her as the elven pale master ordered the ghastly half-ogre to pick the paralyzed elf and her spell tome up and follow as the arcane mistress returned to the depths of her cavern abode, a night walk cut short by a fortuitous meeting under the bright, pale light of Shonil.
The enthralled half-ogre obeyed and shadows obscured the three as they entered the crypt. Ariana enspelled the opening with wards against entry behind them and she willed the half-ogre ahead through the open door to the caverns beyond, locking the second door with a series of geared movements, sealing the way out.
Laerelia fought vainly against the paralysis as she was carried down a set of wet stone stairs that seemed to sprawl out endlessly before them.
"Well, this is it," she thought, mirthlessly. "The end of my journey. Damn the gods and their capricious ways."
(Next: Insatiable)
"Why won't this work? All the motes are right," murmured a slim elven mage with purplish-silver hair, hair that shone brilliantly under the light of the full moon, Shonil. Laerelia Eludrar, formerly of house Aumoran, pored over a thick, rune-inscribed tome in a largely forgotten cemetery under the bright light of a cantrip. She was attempting to determine where her necromantic spell had gone wrong.
The slim and shapely necromancer had moved much earth to reach a particular skeleton buried there a century or more before, and she was determined to learn the secrets of its life. She wanted particularly to know how it, a half-ogre known as Detrats, the Dark, had led to the destruction of her family's long-respected house before meeting his own grisly end and ended up buried in this run-down burial yard.
She was but a child when her family's house had fallen into disgrace and was beset upon by angry mobs, eager to take revenge upon the house they felt had left their city in tatters after the Moyan Guild Wars, wars that had supposedly been fomented by certain members of noble House Aumoran and unspecified and unnameable dark forces that wished to destroy the holy city of Moya altogether in their jealousy of its splendors.
Moya had survived the wars, but House Aumoran had not. All of its inhabitants had been killed save for Laerelia, who had been hiding in a cellar when the angry mob had started lobbing torches at the roof. Its ruins, still untouched after a hundred or so years, still sat as a crumbling black mark on a citythat many, mostly its own inhabitants, considered to be the fairest city in all of Naturna. Its columns stood still, as well as its walls, yet the upper floors and windows were stained black by the heat of the massive conflagration that had consumed it. It bore no roof and anyone with the nerve to enter the cursed place would have found anything non-flammable still in its original place, untouched by time.
Laerelia shook her head to clear her thoughts of the past, unable to suppress a shiver as the chill of the night air seeped in through the open folds of her black velvet robes. She pulled its hood over her head, shadows enveloping the fair features of her thin face. She concentrated again on the spell, reading the arcane words aloud to the lonely and still air around her. Power welled and she felt the ecstasy of magic course through her. She bent her will to channel the energy into a form that would imbue the skeleton in the open grave before her with animated life, binding its soul to the thing's empty skull.
With puissant glee, she felt the spell's subtle sigils coalesce and the blue-white streams of energy flow through her fingertips, a familiar rush of lust flowing outward from her body and down into the grave. The energy became flames as it enshrouded the skeletal remains. The bones began to orient themselves as they would have existed in life as the flame flowed around them. Then, suddenly, the flames disappeared, sucked into the skull as a stream of water into a drain.
Then, all was dark. Nothing moved. The skeletal remains sat still, the animation seeming to fail. Laerelia growled in frustration at yet another failure to reanimate this heap of rotten bones. She turned around and placed her tome on a flat stone near her. She was exhausted. The multiple failures had nearly depleted her energy stores and she was near to collapsing.
A coldness deeper than that of the night air, approaching from behind her brought her to immediate attention, fear gripping her heart.
A deep, raspy voice spoke menacingly. "What Eludrar has ripped my soul from that disembodied torture of Purgatory and placed it in this shambling parody of life?"
Laerelia turned quickly, just in time to see the formerly inanimate skeleton very near to her face, its bones surrounded by the glowing outline of its former living self, a dark-haired, dark-eyed and hideous half-ogre, its human features giving it no measure of grace.
Seemingly out of nowhere its hand encircled her throat and shoved her back and down onto the rocks where her spell tome lay. The pale orb, Shonil, hovered in the sky behind the monster hovering over her, outlining its face in darkness. The once-living creature was easily twice her size and she fought against its crushing force.
"Answer me, witch," it growled angrily as its grip around her throat tightened. She struggled in the mighty grip of the thing, unable to form words with a throat whose supply of air was being cut off slowly. Her lips began to tingle and she tore at the animated horror's wrists desperately.
"My, you're a pretty one aren't you," it taunted. "Been many the age since I tasted an elf maiden, it has."
It, no, he, she noticed with growing terror as it unlaced its glowing outline of trousers with its free hand and let a massive and warty ogre organ tumble out, its own weight pulling it groundward despite its erect state. Its ghostly member, nearly the size of one of her arms, was now freed of the constraining spectral breeches. It used the same free hand to tear open her robes and tunic, continuing on to yank off her deerskin trousers while she struggled to remain conscious.
It stared at her bared body in obvious wanton hunger, her pale skin illuminated in the light of Shonil. It ran its gaze over her soft breasts, touching them roughly with a pallid and almost transparent hand. She felt the tip of its oversized erection press against her smooth vulva as she finally, mercifully succumbed to the lack of air and her world went black.
●●●
Ariana ascended the stairs leading from her caverns to a crypt that led to the outside world. The steps were many and dark, and water trickled over them, dripping from various sources in the ceiling where water worked its way through the ground above. She worked the gears in a complex locking mechanism and soon the imposing stone door at the top of the stairs swung outward into the crypt itself.
Along both sides of the mausoleum beyond the ancient earthen passageway were stone shelves containing sarcophagi whose contents Ariana had removed many eons prior. Those corpses had been some of Ariana's earliest experiments in magically-animated necrophilia. They were now long dust on the floor of her cavern below. Her soft footfalls made small prints in the dust of the floor as she strode out through the stone chamber, her black robes flowing behind her.
Lost in thought, she opened the steel portcullis guarding the crypt entrance, its many magical locks giving way to her touch instantly. It squealed loudly as it opened and cool, dry night air greeted Ariana's face as she left the confines of the crypt.
Almost immediately,her sharp elven ears picked up the sounds of a grunting male. Ariana quickly cast a darkvision spell on herself and moved silently in the shadows toward where the sound had emanated. Rounding a tall obelisk, she made out a ghostly, hulking skeletal form bent over what appeared to be a female of some sort, judging by the smooth curves of the pale legs on either side of the spectral form's hips.
It seemed to be fumbling with something and wasn't aware of Ariana moving silently to a position directly behind it. She placed a hand upon its side and murmured a single word. "Dominate."
As she uttered the word, the creature stiffened in place and didn't move.
"Go, stand by the obelisk, right there," she said and pointed to the obelisk that had hidden her approach. The beast, a half-ogre by its looks, struggled to go to the obelisk, powerless to resist her undead domination, and constrained by the breeches around its ankles. She focused her will on commanding the creature while her gaze lingered for a moment on its ogre-sized cock. She bound it magically to the obelisk while she studied the half-naked form lying on the rocks.
The ogre didn't appear to have harmed the beautiful, purple-haired elf, Ariana learned after some close inspection. She leaned in close to Laerelia's face, the pale master's silver hair falling over and around the unconscious mage, and breathed a word into her ear. Laerelia's eyelids fluttered open and she gasped, her hands going to her throat, expecting to find the sinister undead ogre's hands there. Seeing Ariana's lovely but haunted face leaning over her instead, she caught her breath and drew her robes around her, struggling to sit up and pull her trousers up. Ariana laid a cool hand on the surprised necromancer's naked breastbone and gently stayed her.
"Wh...who are you," she asked. Ariana smiled and backed away, slightly folding her pale hands in her robes.
"I am Ariana Blueheart, Pale Master of the Moyan mountain crypts," Ariana said, bowing her head slightly.
The magically bound ogre spat. "A Pale Master, of course. You fucking witch, release me, and my dark lord will make your death quick."
Ariana smirked and made a gesture with her hand. Detrats, the Dark's glowing face twisted in pain and he howled."
Laerelia eyed Ariana, then the half-ogre, in awe at the power emanating from the silver-haired elf's simple gesture. The ghoul she'd struggled to raise, then failed to control, once raised, was powerless under the influence of this mysterious and divinely exquisite woman standing before her.
Laerelia quickly finished lacing up her pants. She decided to cast aside her torn blouse, replacing it with just her robes and drawing them in close around her and tying them with a black cord.
"Ariana, I beg of you. This creature holds information I seek. Information as to why and how my family's house fell after the Moyan Guild wars. Indeed, I raised him solely for that purpose, but was unable to control him after he had been animated."
Ariana raised an eyebrow at the young necromancer. "You raised this thing," she asked in an almost approving fashion. "I'm perplexed as to how you managed to imbue it with the ghostly essence of its former self. Normally, they are merely rattling boneboxes with a voice."
"I will share with you the spell I used if only you'd grant me the boon of questioning this creature for a time," Laerelia said, supplicatingly, recognizing the sheer amount of power within the wizardess who so effortlessly held the wraithlike ogre in thrall.
"Yes," Ariana said silkily, "you will share the spell with me, whether you like it or not." She reached out to Laerelia with a skeletal hand and placed decayed fingers on the white skin of her bare neck. Ariana spoke a word softly and from those skeletal fingers came a numbing sensation as her body was overcome with paralysis. Fear coursed through her as the elven pale master ordered the ghastly half-ogre to pick the paralyzed elf and her spell tome up and follow as the arcane mistress returned to the depths of her cavern abode, a night walk cut short by a fortuitous meeting under the bright, pale light of Shonil.
The enthralled half-ogre obeyed and shadows obscured the three as they entered the crypt. Ariana enspelled the opening with wards against entry behind them and she willed the half-ogre ahead through the open door to the caverns beyond, locking the second door with a series of geared movements, sealing the way out.
Laerelia fought vainly against the paralysis as she was carried down a set of wet stone stairs that seemed to sprawl out endlessly before them.
"Well, this is it," she thought, mirthlessly. "The end of my journey. Damn the gods and their capricious ways."
(Next: Insatiable)
Monday, December 19, 2016
Pale Master
(Continued from Tristan)
Ariana lay on her back on a slab of smooth, black rock that served as her altar and stared at the distant, shimmering cavern walls. Beside her lay a razor sharp ritual knife, its thin blade reflecting the preternatural light of the dim cavern. Mist shrouded and massive spectral stalactites hung ominously from the faraway ceiling and spoke silent volumes of the ancient age of the place.
Littering the floor all around were the remnants of corpses, skeletons -- whole and scattered -- and memories long dissipated as the last foul uses of the bodies had given way to decay and neglect. The tombs that once housed the stolen carcasses now lay empty save for spiders and other night creatures who might call them home.
The morose and beautiful elven mage reflected on the countless years she had wandered the land searching for the answers to death itself. How to become like to a lich itself without giving up the warmth of life. To hold even a fraction of the mastery of death a lich possessed was a quest Ariana had long pursued and she had attained a great amount of power thus far. Various forays into necromancy had taught her much and she had felt the changes to her body, her skin becoming cool to the touch with a cadaverous hue.
Of course, her brother, Morlon, didn't approve of her appetite for the dead. His shortsightedness would have her cower before his insipid desire to intrude upon what lay between her legs. She had far greater aims than being the humping post of her brother, although the distraction of teasing his whims was not entirely unwelcome. As her flesh grew colder, she hungered more for the warmth of living flesh. Taking it between her legs from her fool brother was less troublesome than kidnapping peasants from the surface and fucking or eating them, though it was far less entertaining.
She felt the hunger for sex wane as the corpse at the side of the altar, its magically erect cock never tiring, continued to thrust haphazardly. The squishy noises and its inhuman grunts echoed in the cavern and began to sound ridiculous. What am I doing here, she thought? Being fucked by this half-decayed thing with gaping wounds and a fleshless, nearly severed arm seemed instantly strange to her.
She sat up and laid a hand on the thrusting corpse's chest, murmuring a word through pale lips. The thing fell to the ground and lay still, bereft of all animation. The pale, thin elf flexed her muscles as if to urinate and a stream of the sterile lubricant she favored for these activities gushed out of her vagina, sliding down the side of the altar, adding to the remains of numerous other coatings from similar activities.
She lay back on her alter and put a hand between her legs, caressing the familiar folds of her smooth, hairless lips. She found that spot between them that made her quiver and massaged it, thoughts of arcane power flowing through her mind. She used a minor sonic vibration spell on the altar and it began to hum and vibrate, small rocks in the vicinity rattling off their ages old resting spots. She pressed against a smooth rock that protruded from the base of the altar and rocked her hips up and down, each movement of her pelvis bringing a fresh wave of orgasmic energy to her aching libido.
Thoughts of death and dismemberment haunted her as she worked her sex toward a dizzying climax. More and more, she wanted, more power, more power, closeness to death, eternal life! Harder she ground her aching and wet meat into the softly vibrating stone, her orgasm laying just out of reach. Her heart pounded and her breath quickened. The muscles in her arms and legs ached from the exertion of fucking the thing that taunted her toward conclusion.
A vivid light in her mind washed over her at that moment and a spectral image of what she must do to achieve her next stage in mastery over death appeared before her. Her swollen vulva ached for completion with a hitherto unknown vengeance so in a wild lust for power, she frantically grabbed the knife next to her and plunged it into the socket joining her arm with her shoulder in accordance with what she was shown in her vision.
White hot pain stabbed through her body as a pool of red grew under her. She stopped rubbing her organ on the stone and just held it there, cherishing the pleasure of the pressure even as her arm protested in pain as she cut away the flesh, severing tendons and cartilaginous material. Impassioned by sexual energy, she felt each tendon pop and the pressure on her arm give way. When the last tendon released its tenuous hold on her dangling humerus, she severed the last of her outer flesh, her leaking life fluids spreading on the alter.
Grimacing with intense pain, she removed the cadaverous arm that had fallen off of the formerly animated corpse near the altar. She held it up in place of the arm she had just severed from her body and recited the spell that had presented itself to her in her vision. Light grew around the separated ends of shoulder and arm. The horrible pain abated and she felt a strange sensation of power surge through her. She arched her hips in ecstasy, the vibrating stone sensating along its entire length.
She flexed the fingers of her new hand and felt the tingling of arcane power in them. She reached down to the vibrating sex column and grabbed it, pulling her vulva closer to it, pressing it tighter until the stone unbelievably broke off in her hand. Her amplified strength was manifold, coursing through her new arm and racing through her body. She shoved the smooth stone column inside her wet, aching sex and used it nefariously until she reached the long awaited, long denied, and mind bending climax that left her slumped on the floor on her side in fetal position, the delicate curves of her ass and thighs bisected by a thick,black stone pillar still clenched between skeletal fingers.
She dreamed of death, lust, and power.
(Next: Laerelia)
Ariana lay on her back on a slab of smooth, black rock that served as her altar and stared at the distant, shimmering cavern walls. Beside her lay a razor sharp ritual knife, its thin blade reflecting the preternatural light of the dim cavern. Mist shrouded and massive spectral stalactites hung ominously from the faraway ceiling and spoke silent volumes of the ancient age of the place.
Littering the floor all around were the remnants of corpses, skeletons -- whole and scattered -- and memories long dissipated as the last foul uses of the bodies had given way to decay and neglect. The tombs that once housed the stolen carcasses now lay empty save for spiders and other night creatures who might call them home.
The morose and beautiful elven mage reflected on the countless years she had wandered the land searching for the answers to death itself. How to become like to a lich itself without giving up the warmth of life. To hold even a fraction of the mastery of death a lich possessed was a quest Ariana had long pursued and she had attained a great amount of power thus far. Various forays into necromancy had taught her much and she had felt the changes to her body, her skin becoming cool to the touch with a cadaverous hue.
Of course, her brother, Morlon, didn't approve of her appetite for the dead. His shortsightedness would have her cower before his insipid desire to intrude upon what lay between her legs. She had far greater aims than being the humping post of her brother, although the distraction of teasing his whims was not entirely unwelcome. As her flesh grew colder, she hungered more for the warmth of living flesh. Taking it between her legs from her fool brother was less troublesome than kidnapping peasants from the surface and fucking or eating them, though it was far less entertaining.
She felt the hunger for sex wane as the corpse at the side of the altar, its magically erect cock never tiring, continued to thrust haphazardly. The squishy noises and its inhuman grunts echoed in the cavern and began to sound ridiculous. What am I doing here, she thought? Being fucked by this half-decayed thing with gaping wounds and a fleshless, nearly severed arm seemed instantly strange to her.
She sat up and laid a hand on the thrusting corpse's chest, murmuring a word through pale lips. The thing fell to the ground and lay still, bereft of all animation. The pale, thin elf flexed her muscles as if to urinate and a stream of the sterile lubricant she favored for these activities gushed out of her vagina, sliding down the side of the altar, adding to the remains of numerous other coatings from similar activities.
She lay back on her alter and put a hand between her legs, caressing the familiar folds of her smooth, hairless lips. She found that spot between them that made her quiver and massaged it, thoughts of arcane power flowing through her mind. She used a minor sonic vibration spell on the altar and it began to hum and vibrate, small rocks in the vicinity rattling off their ages old resting spots. She pressed against a smooth rock that protruded from the base of the altar and rocked her hips up and down, each movement of her pelvis bringing a fresh wave of orgasmic energy to her aching libido.
Thoughts of death and dismemberment haunted her as she worked her sex toward a dizzying climax. More and more, she wanted, more power, more power, closeness to death, eternal life! Harder she ground her aching and wet meat into the softly vibrating stone, her orgasm laying just out of reach. Her heart pounded and her breath quickened. The muscles in her arms and legs ached from the exertion of fucking the thing that taunted her toward conclusion.
A vivid light in her mind washed over her at that moment and a spectral image of what she must do to achieve her next stage in mastery over death appeared before her. Her swollen vulva ached for completion with a hitherto unknown vengeance so in a wild lust for power, she frantically grabbed the knife next to her and plunged it into the socket joining her arm with her shoulder in accordance with what she was shown in her vision.
White hot pain stabbed through her body as a pool of red grew under her. She stopped rubbing her organ on the stone and just held it there, cherishing the pleasure of the pressure even as her arm protested in pain as she cut away the flesh, severing tendons and cartilaginous material. Impassioned by sexual energy, she felt each tendon pop and the pressure on her arm give way. When the last tendon released its tenuous hold on her dangling humerus, she severed the last of her outer flesh, her leaking life fluids spreading on the alter.
Grimacing with intense pain, she removed the cadaverous arm that had fallen off of the formerly animated corpse near the altar. She held it up in place of the arm she had just severed from her body and recited the spell that had presented itself to her in her vision. Light grew around the separated ends of shoulder and arm. The horrible pain abated and she felt a strange sensation of power surge through her. She arched her hips in ecstasy, the vibrating stone sensating along its entire length.
She flexed the fingers of her new hand and felt the tingling of arcane power in them. She reached down to the vibrating sex column and grabbed it, pulling her vulva closer to it, pressing it tighter until the stone unbelievably broke off in her hand. Her amplified strength was manifold, coursing through her new arm and racing through her body. She shoved the smooth stone column inside her wet, aching sex and used it nefariously until she reached the long awaited, long denied, and mind bending climax that left her slumped on the floor on her side in fetal position, the delicate curves of her ass and thighs bisected by a thick,black stone pillar still clenched between skeletal fingers.
She dreamed of death, lust, and power.
(Next: Laerelia)
Thursday, December 15, 2016
Tristan
(Continued from Rogues, Indeed)
"Well, what'd ye do, boy, that got ol' Arnold after ye?" The old man talking to Tristan asked.
The two men sat on empty wooden shipping crates, sharing some well-cooked fish the old man had prepared for the three. Now, two as it seemed the girl was sleeping, still. The flame of a nearby oil lamp cast shadows on the various sail and tarpaulin-covered objects in the warehouse around them and Tristan ate heartily, relishing the food after the chaotic events of that morning. His arse was still sore but he was too tired still to stand around in deference to the soreness.
"Dirty fucker buggered me in this noble house we were checking out," the young Tristan replied angrily, shifting on his crate. "We was there lookin' into some complaint by a house cook and found some old highborn got butchered up in that place. Idelson Manor, I think it was called. Damn near scared me shitless, that what I saw there. We peeked in this one room and first thing I saw was the lady what you saw with me earlier lyin' on the bed undressed and all bunched up like a baby, but covered in blood and the gods know what else. Brak walked in the room, an' I figure he saw summat that scared 'im so he decided I needed to go in and check ta see if she were awake. Asshole.
"The smell in that place damn near had me revisitin' breakfast. Anyways, I walked in the room all careful like and slipped in the mess what was all over the floor. Fell flat on mah arse, I did. Couldn' hardly breathe. Then I looked over an', holy shit, Ansel, I kid you not, there was what used to be a man there lying on the floor. I damn near shit myself right there. He was laid open like a rabbit on the skinnin' table! Damned guts all over the place and pieces of 'im missin' like summat 'ad made a meal out of 'im." Tristan stopped to catch his breath and Ansel nodded for him to continue, his face a mask of perplexity.
"So, Arnold carries me out of there and tosses me onto a bed in some other bedroom and Brak carried the girl into some other room off o' that one, I think it must 'ave been one of them ladie's rooms where they get all prettied up since the bed ol' Arnold had thrown me on was pretty girly. I figured I'd look for some clothes to wear, not thinking the only things I'd find were mostly ladies' clothes. So, I pulled off my bloodied up breeches, and started pullin' out dresses and what-not when next thing I knows, that son-of-a-whore got me pinned up against the wall driving that log of a cock o' his up my poor asshole. I couldn't do nothin' on account of the fact that he's so damn big, so I took it, figuring I'd get my revenge later. I'm not partial to men or women but that was just wrong." Tristan clenched his fists in rage.
"Then, while he passed out on the bed after he finished, and I finally found somethin' ta' wear, I hear Brak yell. I figured, fuck this, and was about to head out the door in a hurry, when next thing I know, this girl is coming out of that room, stark naked still, holding a crossbow, pointed at me.
"Only then, I saw Arnold creepin' up behind 'er with a knife. He put it to her neck, told her to drop that crossbow and she did. But, the thing went off, shot Arnold in the arm and she turned around and kneed him right in the balls!" Tristan got excited about this part of the story.
"Arnold went over like a baby," Tristan chuckled. "And, well, seeing how Brak was dead, I didn't want nothing ta do with that nasty fuck, Arnold, and that she managed to handle those two by herself and naked, I thought she might be the best one ta' stick with, so, when I saw Arnold trying to get up, I grabbed her hand and ran like a rat at a kobold dinner party. I figured her luck couldn't hold out forever, so best to make a run for it.
"We then made our way here -- I made sure to lose 'im on the way -- and, well, here we are," Tristan finished, out of breath.
Ansel laughed in a creaking old man laugh. "That's quite the yarn, m'boy. "Serves Arnie right. You weren't the first, believe me. I've heard some rumors like that before. In any case, listening to you and that girl, nay, woman go on in there, seems like you've become fast, ah... friends. Just... be careful, boy. People aren't always what they seem."
"I know, Ansel. She's easy on th' eyes for sure, but I'm not stupid, " Tristan agreed. "I don't know what went on up in that room, but it sure weren't innocent."
The sound of soft footsteps from outside the reach of the lamplight startled the two until they realized it was the very object of their conversation approaching softly. She was wrapped in the cloak Tristan had acquired for her, a hint of her legs showing through the front when she walked, her bare feet padding almost silently on the rough wood floor. She wrapped the cloak closer and sat on an empty crate near the circle they had formed as a sort of informal dining area.
"Excuse the lack of presentation, m'lady," Ansel said politely. "Not every day I get guests here."
Haline smiled, her dark eyes glittering in the orange glow of the lamp. "It's more than I expected, so I don't mind..." she paused, looking at Ansel questioningly.
"Ansel, it is." He took her outstretched hand and kissed it in greeting. "It is a pleasure," he continued, obviously smitten with the woman and barely hiding the glance at her breasts as she stood and the cloak parted slightly. His loose fitting sailor garb wasn't hiding his sudden erection very well either, nor did he bother to attempt to hide it. Company was rare in his dock warehouse, much less the company of a beautiful and strong woman.
"Haline," she said. "Thank you for your gracious hospitality, Ansel. I gather you are a friend of young Tristan here?"
Haline took note of the man's obvious interest and brushed it off, moving to sit beside Tristan. Indulging this old man's thoughts would complicate things, whatever small gain it might bring. She put a hand on Tristan's thigh, which brought a smile to his face while he stuffed it with fish in a poor attempt at concealing said smile.
"Indeed. I was a friend of his father's. Long ago, we used to sail together until one night we were beset by pirates. The brave and foolhardy man tried to stop them from boarding and he caught a blade in the gullet for his trouble, leaving the boy here with no one, so when he was young, I took him in and did what I could for him." Ansel looked protectively at the young man. It was obvious he cared for Tristan.
"And his mother?" Haline asked.
Tristan spoke. "My mother died when I was but a youngster. My father raised me on that ship right outside the windows there. "
She looked up toward the dusty, cobwebbed windows and saw the dark outlines of a large ship against the gray sky beyond. It was a very large ship, Haline could tell from the height of the windows and the parts of the ship that were visible.
Haline uncrossed her legs and shifted, crossing them again the other direction. The motion moved her a little closer to Tristan and he could feel the curve of her thigh press against him ever so slightly, electricity moving through his body, the cock restrained in his pants straining against its bounds. He found it suddenly difficult to concentrate on the conversation.
There was a loud thump from the crates behind Tristan causing the three to jump with surprise. Haline stood up quickly, looking around for a weapon. Seeing a dagger that was being used to cut fish earlier, she grabbed it and took up a defensive stance, putting a finger to her lips as Tristan and Ansel stood as well. They were both weaponless but grabbed pieces of splintered wood from old crates to fight with, if needed.
A cacophony of whispering assaulted their ears and from around a stack of crates walked a tall creature with blue-white flesh. It wore no clothing aside from leather bracers on its wrists, to which were affixed several tubes of clear liquid. It had long, straight, black hair that lay well past its shoulders and it seemed to be neither male or female. As it approached, two more creatures similar but wearing shorter hair leapt up on crates near the one that seemed to be a leader of sorts.
Haline recognize them immediately and was paralyzed with fear, the memory of what these creatures had done to her that morning of course being painfully fresh. "Go away," she screamed.
One of the creatures Haline recognized as the one called Aldrea, jumped down near the longer haired one and pointed at Haline, who began to urinate in remembrance of the last terrible night, the fluid trickling down her legs. "Master, she still has so much energy! Look how her juices flow!"
Out of courage -- or foolishness -- he didn't know he possessed, Tristan lunged for the nearest of the creatures, the one who had spoken, splintered wood first. The creature snarled, grabbing the wood and pulling him close in one fluid motion. Tristan could feel the monster's cool breath on his face as its snakelike tongue brushed his lips. He trembled in its grasp and at the jolt of electricity that went through his body, causing his penis to stiffen madly and leak semen in spurts. He was unable to move or speak so he just stared at the thing in mute terror while it drank his energy with its tongue.
Meanwhile, the master had moved to Haline and had grasped her chin in one of its supple hands, playfully licking her lips with its tongue, sparks jumping here and there when they touched. A long member had formed from its smooth pelvis and as it grew, it pushed its way between her legs, her urine spilling over it, aiding its passage between her thighs. She trembled, unable to move, its grip paralyzing.
Standing gape-jawed, unable to believe what he was witnessing, Ansel struggled with the choice of running for his life or defending the boy he'd raised and this strange woman he'd become entangled with who obviously had some terrible enemies.
The gruff sailor in him decided on the latter and picked up a bottle of lamp oil. He threw it at the feet of the two creatures who stood on the floor and as it hit the floor it broke, spilling lamp oil all over the floor and on the two closest creatures. The surprised creatures snapped their heads in Ansel's direction and moved toward him.
Aldrea threw Tristan down, knocking over the lamp and igniting the oil on the floor, the flames soon catching up to the two creatures whose feet and legs had been splashed with the oil. Their feet began to burn and they screamed unholy screams. Haline, free of the thing's spell, rushed to help Tristan up from the floor.
The third creature jumped from crate to crate, intent on Ansel. Reaching him, it jumped on him, both of them crashing to the floor. The monster crouched over him and, holding his throat in it's clawlike grasp, ripped open his pants, pulling out his penis and wrapping the serpentine tongue around it. Ansel found himself also unable to move in the paralytic grasp as electrical jolts coursed through him, stiffening his old cock.
The blue-white abomination then mounted his meat and began riding him, grasping and pulling with a vagina that hadn't been there moments before, as if to pull every last bit of energy from him and drain him of life itself. As he savagely orgasmed, darkness seemed to envelop him and he lost consciousness. The creature leaned forward, his still stiff cock in its pussy and bit into his wrinkled neck, tearing a large piece off, chewing, then swallowing it. Excitedly, it rammed it's pelvis down on his dead, but stiff member, as it lifted its head and howled, blood from the old man's neck spilling from its mouth and down its neck. It savagely tore at his neck, blood spurting everywhere, a dark pool forming under his body.
Tristan watched the scene dazedly, unable to process the horror before him and, strangely, drawn to these vile creatures with their smooth blue-white skin and delicate curves. Haline slapped him and he snapped out of the daze, the smell of burning flesh and screams all around him. She pulled him.
"Come on, you idiot!" She yelled and pulled his arm hard, running in the direction of the door, frantically avoiding crates, nets and other assorted obstacles. Meanwhile, other crates had started to burn and the fire was spreading quickly. They could hear the creatures howling on the other side of the blaze. It would only be a matter of time until they were followed.
"Over here," Tristan shouted. He pointed to a trapdoor in the warehouse floor that led to the harbor water below. "We can go out here and lose them."
She removed the singed cloak and wrapped it up into a ball so she could swim with it and not be as conspicuously naked when she came out the other side, wherever that was. She had to trust that Tristan knew what he was doing. She slipped into the dark water and, shortly after, he followed, barefoot, but otherwise fully clothed. They both resurfaced under the building for air. The water was foul smelling, being the host for sewage, bodies, and any number of other unnameable objects. They both nearly gagged but the sound of footsteps above encouraged them to dive again and swim toward the dim light provided through the murky water by the grey sky.
They surfaced for air two more times before reaching the hull of the docked ship that had belonged to Ansel. They surfaced once more, then swam to the opposite side of the ship and came back up, gasping for air, panting with exertion and excitement. As they bobbed in the calm water under an overcast sky, they embraced tightly, safe, for the time being.
(Next: Pale Master)
"Well, what'd ye do, boy, that got ol' Arnold after ye?" The old man talking to Tristan asked.
The two men sat on empty wooden shipping crates, sharing some well-cooked fish the old man had prepared for the three. Now, two as it seemed the girl was sleeping, still. The flame of a nearby oil lamp cast shadows on the various sail and tarpaulin-covered objects in the warehouse around them and Tristan ate heartily, relishing the food after the chaotic events of that morning. His arse was still sore but he was too tired still to stand around in deference to the soreness.
"Dirty fucker buggered me in this noble house we were checking out," the young Tristan replied angrily, shifting on his crate. "We was there lookin' into some complaint by a house cook and found some old highborn got butchered up in that place. Idelson Manor, I think it was called. Damn near scared me shitless, that what I saw there. We peeked in this one room and first thing I saw was the lady what you saw with me earlier lyin' on the bed undressed and all bunched up like a baby, but covered in blood and the gods know what else. Brak walked in the room, an' I figure he saw summat that scared 'im so he decided I needed to go in and check ta see if she were awake. Asshole.
"The smell in that place damn near had me revisitin' breakfast. Anyways, I walked in the room all careful like and slipped in the mess what was all over the floor. Fell flat on mah arse, I did. Couldn' hardly breathe. Then I looked over an', holy shit, Ansel, I kid you not, there was what used to be a man there lying on the floor. I damn near shit myself right there. He was laid open like a rabbit on the skinnin' table! Damned guts all over the place and pieces of 'im missin' like summat 'ad made a meal out of 'im." Tristan stopped to catch his breath and Ansel nodded for him to continue, his face a mask of perplexity.
"So, Arnold carries me out of there and tosses me onto a bed in some other bedroom and Brak carried the girl into some other room off o' that one, I think it must 'ave been one of them ladie's rooms where they get all prettied up since the bed ol' Arnold had thrown me on was pretty girly. I figured I'd look for some clothes to wear, not thinking the only things I'd find were mostly ladies' clothes. So, I pulled off my bloodied up breeches, and started pullin' out dresses and what-not when next thing I knows, that son-of-a-whore got me pinned up against the wall driving that log of a cock o' his up my poor asshole. I couldn't do nothin' on account of the fact that he's so damn big, so I took it, figuring I'd get my revenge later. I'm not partial to men or women but that was just wrong." Tristan clenched his fists in rage.
"Then, while he passed out on the bed after he finished, and I finally found somethin' ta' wear, I hear Brak yell. I figured, fuck this, and was about to head out the door in a hurry, when next thing I know, this girl is coming out of that room, stark naked still, holding a crossbow, pointed at me.
"Only then, I saw Arnold creepin' up behind 'er with a knife. He put it to her neck, told her to drop that crossbow and she did. But, the thing went off, shot Arnold in the arm and she turned around and kneed him right in the balls!" Tristan got excited about this part of the story.
"Arnold went over like a baby," Tristan chuckled. "And, well, seeing how Brak was dead, I didn't want nothing ta do with that nasty fuck, Arnold, and that she managed to handle those two by herself and naked, I thought she might be the best one ta' stick with, so, when I saw Arnold trying to get up, I grabbed her hand and ran like a rat at a kobold dinner party. I figured her luck couldn't hold out forever, so best to make a run for it.
"We then made our way here -- I made sure to lose 'im on the way -- and, well, here we are," Tristan finished, out of breath.
Ansel laughed in a creaking old man laugh. "That's quite the yarn, m'boy. "Serves Arnie right. You weren't the first, believe me. I've heard some rumors like that before. In any case, listening to you and that girl, nay, woman go on in there, seems like you've become fast, ah... friends. Just... be careful, boy. People aren't always what they seem."
"I know, Ansel. She's easy on th' eyes for sure, but I'm not stupid, " Tristan agreed. "I don't know what went on up in that room, but it sure weren't innocent."
The sound of soft footsteps from outside the reach of the lamplight startled the two until they realized it was the very object of their conversation approaching softly. She was wrapped in the cloak Tristan had acquired for her, a hint of her legs showing through the front when she walked, her bare feet padding almost silently on the rough wood floor. She wrapped the cloak closer and sat on an empty crate near the circle they had formed as a sort of informal dining area.
"Excuse the lack of presentation, m'lady," Ansel said politely. "Not every day I get guests here."
Haline smiled, her dark eyes glittering in the orange glow of the lamp. "It's more than I expected, so I don't mind..." she paused, looking at Ansel questioningly.
"Ansel, it is." He took her outstretched hand and kissed it in greeting. "It is a pleasure," he continued, obviously smitten with the woman and barely hiding the glance at her breasts as she stood and the cloak parted slightly. His loose fitting sailor garb wasn't hiding his sudden erection very well either, nor did he bother to attempt to hide it. Company was rare in his dock warehouse, much less the company of a beautiful and strong woman.
"Haline," she said. "Thank you for your gracious hospitality, Ansel. I gather you are a friend of young Tristan here?"
Haline took note of the man's obvious interest and brushed it off, moving to sit beside Tristan. Indulging this old man's thoughts would complicate things, whatever small gain it might bring. She put a hand on Tristan's thigh, which brought a smile to his face while he stuffed it with fish in a poor attempt at concealing said smile.
"Indeed. I was a friend of his father's. Long ago, we used to sail together until one night we were beset by pirates. The brave and foolhardy man tried to stop them from boarding and he caught a blade in the gullet for his trouble, leaving the boy here with no one, so when he was young, I took him in and did what I could for him." Ansel looked protectively at the young man. It was obvious he cared for Tristan.
"And his mother?" Haline asked.
Tristan spoke. "My mother died when I was but a youngster. My father raised me on that ship right outside the windows there. "
She looked up toward the dusty, cobwebbed windows and saw the dark outlines of a large ship against the gray sky beyond. It was a very large ship, Haline could tell from the height of the windows and the parts of the ship that were visible.
Haline uncrossed her legs and shifted, crossing them again the other direction. The motion moved her a little closer to Tristan and he could feel the curve of her thigh press against him ever so slightly, electricity moving through his body, the cock restrained in his pants straining against its bounds. He found it suddenly difficult to concentrate on the conversation.
There was a loud thump from the crates behind Tristan causing the three to jump with surprise. Haline stood up quickly, looking around for a weapon. Seeing a dagger that was being used to cut fish earlier, she grabbed it and took up a defensive stance, putting a finger to her lips as Tristan and Ansel stood as well. They were both weaponless but grabbed pieces of splintered wood from old crates to fight with, if needed.
A cacophony of whispering assaulted their ears and from around a stack of crates walked a tall creature with blue-white flesh. It wore no clothing aside from leather bracers on its wrists, to which were affixed several tubes of clear liquid. It had long, straight, black hair that lay well past its shoulders and it seemed to be neither male or female. As it approached, two more creatures similar but wearing shorter hair leapt up on crates near the one that seemed to be a leader of sorts.
Haline recognize them immediately and was paralyzed with fear, the memory of what these creatures had done to her that morning of course being painfully fresh. "Go away," she screamed.
One of the creatures Haline recognized as the one called Aldrea, jumped down near the longer haired one and pointed at Haline, who began to urinate in remembrance of the last terrible night, the fluid trickling down her legs. "Master, she still has so much energy! Look how her juices flow!"
Out of courage -- or foolishness -- he didn't know he possessed, Tristan lunged for the nearest of the creatures, the one who had spoken, splintered wood first. The creature snarled, grabbing the wood and pulling him close in one fluid motion. Tristan could feel the monster's cool breath on his face as its snakelike tongue brushed his lips. He trembled in its grasp and at the jolt of electricity that went through his body, causing his penis to stiffen madly and leak semen in spurts. He was unable to move or speak so he just stared at the thing in mute terror while it drank his energy with its tongue.
Meanwhile, the master had moved to Haline and had grasped her chin in one of its supple hands, playfully licking her lips with its tongue, sparks jumping here and there when they touched. A long member had formed from its smooth pelvis and as it grew, it pushed its way between her legs, her urine spilling over it, aiding its passage between her thighs. She trembled, unable to move, its grip paralyzing.
Standing gape-jawed, unable to believe what he was witnessing, Ansel struggled with the choice of running for his life or defending the boy he'd raised and this strange woman he'd become entangled with who obviously had some terrible enemies.
The gruff sailor in him decided on the latter and picked up a bottle of lamp oil. He threw it at the feet of the two creatures who stood on the floor and as it hit the floor it broke, spilling lamp oil all over the floor and on the two closest creatures. The surprised creatures snapped their heads in Ansel's direction and moved toward him.
Aldrea threw Tristan down, knocking over the lamp and igniting the oil on the floor, the flames soon catching up to the two creatures whose feet and legs had been splashed with the oil. Their feet began to burn and they screamed unholy screams. Haline, free of the thing's spell, rushed to help Tristan up from the floor.
The third creature jumped from crate to crate, intent on Ansel. Reaching him, it jumped on him, both of them crashing to the floor. The monster crouched over him and, holding his throat in it's clawlike grasp, ripped open his pants, pulling out his penis and wrapping the serpentine tongue around it. Ansel found himself also unable to move in the paralytic grasp as electrical jolts coursed through him, stiffening his old cock.
The blue-white abomination then mounted his meat and began riding him, grasping and pulling with a vagina that hadn't been there moments before, as if to pull every last bit of energy from him and drain him of life itself. As he savagely orgasmed, darkness seemed to envelop him and he lost consciousness. The creature leaned forward, his still stiff cock in its pussy and bit into his wrinkled neck, tearing a large piece off, chewing, then swallowing it. Excitedly, it rammed it's pelvis down on his dead, but stiff member, as it lifted its head and howled, blood from the old man's neck spilling from its mouth and down its neck. It savagely tore at his neck, blood spurting everywhere, a dark pool forming under his body.
Tristan watched the scene dazedly, unable to process the horror before him and, strangely, drawn to these vile creatures with their smooth blue-white skin and delicate curves. Haline slapped him and he snapped out of the daze, the smell of burning flesh and screams all around him. She pulled him.
"Come on, you idiot!" She yelled and pulled his arm hard, running in the direction of the door, frantically avoiding crates, nets and other assorted obstacles. Meanwhile, other crates had started to burn and the fire was spreading quickly. They could hear the creatures howling on the other side of the blaze. It would only be a matter of time until they were followed.
"Over here," Tristan shouted. He pointed to a trapdoor in the warehouse floor that led to the harbor water below. "We can go out here and lose them."
She removed the singed cloak and wrapped it up into a ball so she could swim with it and not be as conspicuously naked when she came out the other side, wherever that was. She had to trust that Tristan knew what he was doing. She slipped into the dark water and, shortly after, he followed, barefoot, but otherwise fully clothed. They both resurfaced under the building for air. The water was foul smelling, being the host for sewage, bodies, and any number of other unnameable objects. They both nearly gagged but the sound of footsteps above encouraged them to dive again and swim toward the dim light provided through the murky water by the grey sky.
They surfaced for air two more times before reaching the hull of the docked ship that had belonged to Ansel. They surfaced once more, then swam to the opposite side of the ship and came back up, gasping for air, panting with exertion and excitement. As they bobbed in the calm water under an overcast sky, they embraced tightly, safe, for the time being.
(Next: Pale Master)
Wednesday, December 14, 2016
Rogues, Indeed
(Continued from Ariana)
"Yes, rogues, indeed," Lord Wilhelm replied, gravely. "The king should be here on the morrow. The city square is quite a scene, I'm afraid." He added with some amount of sarcasm,"I've been trying to avoid the very mention of it, yet I find myself beset at all angles with talk of 'all the wonderful things' that shall be seen thereabouts on fest day."
"I quite agree," Lord Grant laughed. "The peasants are amused by the most mundane of things, it seems. Would that they were exposed to some proper fun and games, they might just die!" They both chuckled knowingly at that.
"Ah hah! Perhaps we should round up a couple of whores tonight. A couple of the nice ones, from Winderbarrow. I carried one home from Bardrick's the other week and gods what I found in her cunt when I went digging around. Quite ghastly."
"Yes, Bardrick's is not up to standards these days," Lord Grant said absently. "Say, I'm feeling a bit randy for one of those halfling whores lately. What do you say we pick up a couple of those?"
"Can't say I can deny their appeal. Makes one feel a bit dirty when their perched up on one's cock, moaning away the night, their cute little faces twisted in pleasure only a human can give them."
"Stop that, Maron, you'll get me all worked up before breaking fast even."
"Wake up, ye filthy 'ores," a gruff woman's voice said loudly, interrupting the languid sleep of various women reposing in cots and bunk beds in a dimly lit common sleeping room. "The Winderbarrow ain't gonna clean itself. Now, git yer arses up an' get to your chores. Chores for 'ores, I say!" The splotchy-faced and rotund old wife of the proprietor of Winderbarrow brothel laughed heartily at her own joke, one she'd repeated every day for the last year since she'd thought of it.
Hildi groaned inwardly at being awoken by the joke for the three-hundredth time and yawned, stretching out her stiff halfling limbs, a naked breast peeking out from under the thin sheet she slept under in the summer heat. The other end of the sheet pulled up, exposing her tan-hued skin. She abruptly turned over, and propped herself up on her elbows, her small ass exposed to the room.
She looked over at her human friend, Shandra, sleeping next to her, oblivious to the shouting mistress. The pretty girl stirred a little and rolled over, exposing her back, the rest of her covered by a mostly sheer sleeping shift. Hildi stared at her and marveled at the smooth yet knotted line her spine made between the limber muscles of the girl's back. Her beautiful blond hair was like spun gold and lay tousled on the bed behind her. Then, she looked down at herself and remembered she was naked.
"Ugh, I must have forgotten to dress after that filthy lord was finished last night," she thought. The man had been nearly insatiable and she'd hobbled back to the bunk room barely awake, not even enough time to clean off the man's slime. In fact, she barely remembered getting back there.
She hated this life, but, it was a living. Some women here seemed to love it, but of course they were human. They couldn't imagine the lecherous types who came in here looking for halfling girls and what they could do when they knew no one was looking -- or listening. She shuddered at the thought. She got up, and stretched again, her muscular legs and arms flexing with her arching back.
She stood there leaning on the side of the bunk bed, shaking the sleep out of her head, when she felt something nuzzle her public hair, making her tingle and stand on her toes for a moment. She looked down and saw Shandra's golden hair as her friend shoved her nose between Hildi's legs.
"My diminutive friend, last night must have been quite a time," the human remarked lightly, smiling up at Hildi. "You smell positively musky!"
Just then, Hildi felt something round and wooden hit her ass and force its way between her cheeks, threatening to go right inside her. "If youns don't get to work, I'll shove this 'ere broom stick right up your little halfling rump!" A voice from behind her ordered and gave the stick a bump as a warning.
Hildi stuck out her little naked behind and said defiantly, "you just try it and we'll see what Ramon has to say about it when I tell him you violated one of his girls!"
The woman snarled at Hildi and threw a glass of water in her face. "You watch that mouth of yours, little one, or ye'll be back out in them streets, fightin' them rats for yer next meal. Me old man aren't a fool. He knows we needs discipline in 'ere. Just for them words, ye get ta wear them special work clothes today," the old woman said disdainfully and smacked Hildi's bottom hard with the broom stick.
Hildi sighed, water dripping from her face. The old woman threw a pair of rough brown leather shorts at the halfling.
"Now, get them on, and I mean, all the way on," she ordered, grinning, her yellow teeth showing through the thin lips. "I want all yer 'oles filled an' Imma come inspect later."
The defeated halfling unlaced the front of the shorts and looked inside. There were two smooth, polished steel phalluses mounted inside, one of which was shaped like a large arrowhead. She gulped and drew them on, tears of humiliation and anticipated pain in her eyes. The women around the room looked away, mostly, though Shandra tried to sooth Hildi with a look mostly unseen as tears filled Hildi's eyes. She'd have to do all of her chores today on her knees, wearing only the uncomfortable shorts, tortuously impaled in two close-together spots.
"Here, get em ready first, girl," the round woman said, holding out a hand with cooking grease on it. "Can't have you lady bits all damaged for work tonight."
The "work shorts", as they were named, were made for a child (or halfling as it were) but had been modified with steel things, a dildo and rump plug that were made for a human woman. She had never worn the shorts before, but had seen others be punished with them, so she was vaguely aware of what to do. She took the grease from the nasty old woman and used it to coat the steel cullions. She then pulled the shorts up and tried to ease the things into her anus and vagina. As the tip of the first one started into her ass, she blanched and pushed hard into it, ignoring the pain. Just get it over with, she thought. After some struggling she felt a pop and some relief as the thing filled her rear end and her muscle closed around its smaller base. The dildo made for her vagina wasn't nearly as bad and she inserted it with only a little resistance, though it pained her a little as it reached its deepest point.
Embarrassed, she looked to the old woman, drawing the string at the waist and tying it, ignoring the staring women around her. "On yer knees, you ungrateful brat. 'ere's a pail and a sponge. Get to work, cleaning these 'ere floors." She looked around the room, "The rest of yous get yer arses dressed and get to yer own jobs. There's meals to be made and bawdy rooms to be cleaned up."
Hildi worked alone, scrubbing the floors, the motion causing her to dip her shoulders down and her hips to press upward, grinding the steel devices inside her further and igniting her with pleasure and pain. The shorts were soon wet from her weeping lady bits, the brown leather turning dark and just a little less irritating to the sensitive skin in the area. What a miserable day, she thought, gloomily.
After breaking fast at the excellent but expensive Arosel's Tavern, Lords Maron Wilhelm and Arthur Grant spent the day carousing the wares available at the many tents erected in the city square, a roughly one square mile park area in the middle of the city of Morisham. The city square was a regular place of various festivities on any given endofweek but ahead of the realm king's arrival, the number of festivities had grown exponentially until virtually every fingerwidth of the place was over taken by hawkers and performers of various repute.
Lord Wilhelm spied a particularly interesting red and yellow striped tent whose opening was festooned by nude paintings of exotic dark-skinned men and women from Amosthia engaged in assorted athletic sexual acts and hideous (to humans at least) lizard people from Rarthska engaged in something unidentifiable. There were even paintings of the sensual cat ladies from the distant and noble kingdom of Felinia. "Gran, just a moment, let's hang in here for a breath or two and see what's new from those distant shores to kindle our excitement."
Lord Grant nodded his acquiescence and followed his friend into the dim interior, made smoky from numerous incense candles around the place. It was hot inside the tent and, even in light traveling clothes, the two lords began to perspire in short order. They both removed their overtunics to alleviate the discomfort.
The interior of the tent was much larger than should have been allowed by what they had seen of the exterior, which they both assumed had been made possible by magic. A man in red robes, standing near a shelf full of strange concoctions, verified that assumption.
There were all manner of distractions in this tent of iniquity. The shadowy natives of Amosthia engaged in many strenuous activities involving proudly displayed body parts usually hidden among polite society members. Fur-covered and erotic women with spots and long prehensile tails pleasured half-naked human men with deft motions of their feline hips, their capable, pink-lipped vulvas enveloping their clients' cocks with willing ease. Lizard warrior women held their Amosthian counterparts aloft by their buttocks while their long, dextrous tongues brought the well-muscled women to uncontrollable and spasmodic orgasm.
"Well, I can certainly see why they have so much incense burning in here," joked Lord Grant. "The bodily aromas of such a varied crowd must be something to behold."
"Quite right," was all Lord Wilhelm could muster, his attention pulled in several directions by those seeking his coin. "I think... I think that kitty right there," he pointed to a slim black and white Felinian sitting languidly on a bench, smoking a cigarette attached to a long, slim pipe.
Her eyes were the bluest sky-blue with grey flecks and her black cat eye-slits surrounded by silver lines. She had ridiculously long lashes and her ears, positioned on the top sides of her head, one white and one black, were tipped with little tufts of fur that brought them to sharp points. He noted she had small human type fur-covered breasts and only two of them. She had a lovely figure and her hips rounded out onto the bench in a way that made the lord squirm with desire to hold them in his hands.
Forgetting about his fellow lord entirely, he approached the beautiful cat woman, a bulge forming in his pants. The Felinian sniffed the air.
"I smell your sex, human," she purred as the end her tail playfully rubbed against his growing bulge. Her wide face and toothy -- dangerous looking -- smile did not dissuade him from his course. In fact, it seemed to only make him more interested.
Lord Grant stood back, watching with curiosity.
As Lord Wilhelm drew closer to the intense woman, her tail wrapped around him. He felt the light touch of sharp claws on his back through the thin undertunic as she pulled him closer. Her whiskers tickled his ears as she whispered into one, "your coin first, sir."
"Yes, yes, of course," Maron stammered, abandoning good decor altogether. "How much?"
"That depends," she said softly into his ear. "How about a good faith deposit of fifty silvers? We can settle the rest up later." Her tail had moved behind him and was stroking his member through his breeches from between his legs. He found it maddening.
"Anything," he said, and pulled out a few gold pieces. "This should more than adequately cover your services."
The Felinian meowed and smiled another toothy smile, her sharp fangs protruding menacingly. "Yes, yes, that will do," she said and stood.
She was a little taller tan he had expected, standing two fingerwidths taller than him not counting her ears. She wrapped his fingers in her own clawed fingers and led him to an adjoining tent of her own where they would have privacy. Evidently, she wasn't as lewd as the other members of this carnal carnival. Without a look back to Lord Grant, Wilhelm disappeared into the folds of the other tent.
Lord Grant smiled. "Rogues, indeed. Good luck to you, chap," he said to the closed flap and strode on, humming to himself while he enjoyed the sights around him.
(Next: Tristan)
"Yes, rogues, indeed," Lord Wilhelm replied, gravely. "The king should be here on the morrow. The city square is quite a scene, I'm afraid." He added with some amount of sarcasm,"I've been trying to avoid the very mention of it, yet I find myself beset at all angles with talk of 'all the wonderful things' that shall be seen thereabouts on fest day."
"I quite agree," Lord Grant laughed. "The peasants are amused by the most mundane of things, it seems. Would that they were exposed to some proper fun and games, they might just die!" They both chuckled knowingly at that.
"Ah hah! Perhaps we should round up a couple of whores tonight. A couple of the nice ones, from Winderbarrow. I carried one home from Bardrick's the other week and gods what I found in her cunt when I went digging around. Quite ghastly."
"Yes, Bardrick's is not up to standards these days," Lord Grant said absently. "Say, I'm feeling a bit randy for one of those halfling whores lately. What do you say we pick up a couple of those?"
"Can't say I can deny their appeal. Makes one feel a bit dirty when their perched up on one's cock, moaning away the night, their cute little faces twisted in pleasure only a human can give them."
"Stop that, Maron, you'll get me all worked up before breaking fast even."
●●●
"Wake up, ye filthy 'ores," a gruff woman's voice said loudly, interrupting the languid sleep of various women reposing in cots and bunk beds in a dimly lit common sleeping room. "The Winderbarrow ain't gonna clean itself. Now, git yer arses up an' get to your chores. Chores for 'ores, I say!" The splotchy-faced and rotund old wife of the proprietor of Winderbarrow brothel laughed heartily at her own joke, one she'd repeated every day for the last year since she'd thought of it.
Hildi groaned inwardly at being awoken by the joke for the three-hundredth time and yawned, stretching out her stiff halfling limbs, a naked breast peeking out from under the thin sheet she slept under in the summer heat. The other end of the sheet pulled up, exposing her tan-hued skin. She abruptly turned over, and propped herself up on her elbows, her small ass exposed to the room.
She looked over at her human friend, Shandra, sleeping next to her, oblivious to the shouting mistress. The pretty girl stirred a little and rolled over, exposing her back, the rest of her covered by a mostly sheer sleeping shift. Hildi stared at her and marveled at the smooth yet knotted line her spine made between the limber muscles of the girl's back. Her beautiful blond hair was like spun gold and lay tousled on the bed behind her. Then, she looked down at herself and remembered she was naked.
"Ugh, I must have forgotten to dress after that filthy lord was finished last night," she thought. The man had been nearly insatiable and she'd hobbled back to the bunk room barely awake, not even enough time to clean off the man's slime. In fact, she barely remembered getting back there.
She hated this life, but, it was a living. Some women here seemed to love it, but of course they were human. They couldn't imagine the lecherous types who came in here looking for halfling girls and what they could do when they knew no one was looking -- or listening. She shuddered at the thought. She got up, and stretched again, her muscular legs and arms flexing with her arching back.
She stood there leaning on the side of the bunk bed, shaking the sleep out of her head, when she felt something nuzzle her public hair, making her tingle and stand on her toes for a moment. She looked down and saw Shandra's golden hair as her friend shoved her nose between Hildi's legs.
"My diminutive friend, last night must have been quite a time," the human remarked lightly, smiling up at Hildi. "You smell positively musky!"
Just then, Hildi felt something round and wooden hit her ass and force its way between her cheeks, threatening to go right inside her. "If youns don't get to work, I'll shove this 'ere broom stick right up your little halfling rump!" A voice from behind her ordered and gave the stick a bump as a warning.
Hildi stuck out her little naked behind and said defiantly, "you just try it and we'll see what Ramon has to say about it when I tell him you violated one of his girls!"
The woman snarled at Hildi and threw a glass of water in her face. "You watch that mouth of yours, little one, or ye'll be back out in them streets, fightin' them rats for yer next meal. Me old man aren't a fool. He knows we needs discipline in 'ere. Just for them words, ye get ta wear them special work clothes today," the old woman said disdainfully and smacked Hildi's bottom hard with the broom stick.
Hildi sighed, water dripping from her face. The old woman threw a pair of rough brown leather shorts at the halfling.
"Now, get them on, and I mean, all the way on," she ordered, grinning, her yellow teeth showing through the thin lips. "I want all yer 'oles filled an' Imma come inspect later."
The defeated halfling unlaced the front of the shorts and looked inside. There were two smooth, polished steel phalluses mounted inside, one of which was shaped like a large arrowhead. She gulped and drew them on, tears of humiliation and anticipated pain in her eyes. The women around the room looked away, mostly, though Shandra tried to sooth Hildi with a look mostly unseen as tears filled Hildi's eyes. She'd have to do all of her chores today on her knees, wearing only the uncomfortable shorts, tortuously impaled in two close-together spots.
"Here, get em ready first, girl," the round woman said, holding out a hand with cooking grease on it. "Can't have you lady bits all damaged for work tonight."
The "work shorts", as they were named, were made for a child (or halfling as it were) but had been modified with steel things, a dildo and rump plug that were made for a human woman. She had never worn the shorts before, but had seen others be punished with them, so she was vaguely aware of what to do. She took the grease from the nasty old woman and used it to coat the steel cullions. She then pulled the shorts up and tried to ease the things into her anus and vagina. As the tip of the first one started into her ass, she blanched and pushed hard into it, ignoring the pain. Just get it over with, she thought. After some struggling she felt a pop and some relief as the thing filled her rear end and her muscle closed around its smaller base. The dildo made for her vagina wasn't nearly as bad and she inserted it with only a little resistance, though it pained her a little as it reached its deepest point.
Embarrassed, she looked to the old woman, drawing the string at the waist and tying it, ignoring the staring women around her. "On yer knees, you ungrateful brat. 'ere's a pail and a sponge. Get to work, cleaning these 'ere floors." She looked around the room, "The rest of yous get yer arses dressed and get to yer own jobs. There's meals to be made and bawdy rooms to be cleaned up."
Hildi worked alone, scrubbing the floors, the motion causing her to dip her shoulders down and her hips to press upward, grinding the steel devices inside her further and igniting her with pleasure and pain. The shorts were soon wet from her weeping lady bits, the brown leather turning dark and just a little less irritating to the sensitive skin in the area. What a miserable day, she thought, gloomily.
●●●
After breaking fast at the excellent but expensive Arosel's Tavern, Lords Maron Wilhelm and Arthur Grant spent the day carousing the wares available at the many tents erected in the city square, a roughly one square mile park area in the middle of the city of Morisham. The city square was a regular place of various festivities on any given endofweek but ahead of the realm king's arrival, the number of festivities had grown exponentially until virtually every fingerwidth of the place was over taken by hawkers and performers of various repute.
Lord Wilhelm spied a particularly interesting red and yellow striped tent whose opening was festooned by nude paintings of exotic dark-skinned men and women from Amosthia engaged in assorted athletic sexual acts and hideous (to humans at least) lizard people from Rarthska engaged in something unidentifiable. There were even paintings of the sensual cat ladies from the distant and noble kingdom of Felinia. "Gran, just a moment, let's hang in here for a breath or two and see what's new from those distant shores to kindle our excitement."
Lord Grant nodded his acquiescence and followed his friend into the dim interior, made smoky from numerous incense candles around the place. It was hot inside the tent and, even in light traveling clothes, the two lords began to perspire in short order. They both removed their overtunics to alleviate the discomfort.
The interior of the tent was much larger than should have been allowed by what they had seen of the exterior, which they both assumed had been made possible by magic. A man in red robes, standing near a shelf full of strange concoctions, verified that assumption.
There were all manner of distractions in this tent of iniquity. The shadowy natives of Amosthia engaged in many strenuous activities involving proudly displayed body parts usually hidden among polite society members. Fur-covered and erotic women with spots and long prehensile tails pleasured half-naked human men with deft motions of their feline hips, their capable, pink-lipped vulvas enveloping their clients' cocks with willing ease. Lizard warrior women held their Amosthian counterparts aloft by their buttocks while their long, dextrous tongues brought the well-muscled women to uncontrollable and spasmodic orgasm.
"Well, I can certainly see why they have so much incense burning in here," joked Lord Grant. "The bodily aromas of such a varied crowd must be something to behold."
"Quite right," was all Lord Wilhelm could muster, his attention pulled in several directions by those seeking his coin. "I think... I think that kitty right there," he pointed to a slim black and white Felinian sitting languidly on a bench, smoking a cigarette attached to a long, slim pipe.
Her eyes were the bluest sky-blue with grey flecks and her black cat eye-slits surrounded by silver lines. She had ridiculously long lashes and her ears, positioned on the top sides of her head, one white and one black, were tipped with little tufts of fur that brought them to sharp points. He noted she had small human type fur-covered breasts and only two of them. She had a lovely figure and her hips rounded out onto the bench in a way that made the lord squirm with desire to hold them in his hands.
Forgetting about his fellow lord entirely, he approached the beautiful cat woman, a bulge forming in his pants. The Felinian sniffed the air.
"I smell your sex, human," she purred as the end her tail playfully rubbed against his growing bulge. Her wide face and toothy -- dangerous looking -- smile did not dissuade him from his course. In fact, it seemed to only make him more interested.
Lord Grant stood back, watching with curiosity.
As Lord Wilhelm drew closer to the intense woman, her tail wrapped around him. He felt the light touch of sharp claws on his back through the thin undertunic as she pulled him closer. Her whiskers tickled his ears as she whispered into one, "your coin first, sir."
"Yes, yes, of course," Maron stammered, abandoning good decor altogether. "How much?"
"That depends," she said softly into his ear. "How about a good faith deposit of fifty silvers? We can settle the rest up later." Her tail had moved behind him and was stroking his member through his breeches from between his legs. He found it maddening.
"Anything," he said, and pulled out a few gold pieces. "This should more than adequately cover your services."
The Felinian meowed and smiled another toothy smile, her sharp fangs protruding menacingly. "Yes, yes, that will do," she said and stood.
She was a little taller tan he had expected, standing two fingerwidths taller than him not counting her ears. She wrapped his fingers in her own clawed fingers and led him to an adjoining tent of her own where they would have privacy. Evidently, she wasn't as lewd as the other members of this carnal carnival. Without a look back to Lord Grant, Wilhelm disappeared into the folds of the other tent.
Lord Grant smiled. "Rogues, indeed. Good luck to you, chap," he said to the closed flap and strode on, humming to himself while he enjoyed the sights around him.
(Next: Tristan)
Friday, December 9, 2016
Ariana
(Continued from Cobwebs)
In the center of a sprawling cavern, the furthest reaches of which were buried in shimmering shadow and etched with lines of ashen light, a comely elven mage with silver hair and blue-white skin leaned against a rough black standing stone, palms out, bent over, her skinny rear end perked out and her legs spread a bit more than the width of her narrow shoulders. Behind her was a line of ghastly creatures of all shapes and sizes but with a few things in common. They were all dead, all male, and all had permanent erections. In fact, their collective penises were the only part of them intact, for the most part.
Next to her was a pedestal with a bowl, a bowl containing a lubricant she had concocted herself. It would keep her pussy pliable but kill any strange things these former grave denizens might be carrying around. The next one in line stepped up at her command. It's penis stood straight up at attention. She put her hand in the bowl and then reached back to slather its member with lubricant. Then she signaled for it to step forward and its base animal instinct took over. It clawed at her waist and hips with its cadaverous skeletal hands, thrusting its undead cock into her almost inviting vagina, the electric energy she channeled through it entering the creature and feeding its desire. Through her it saw a means to end its eternal torment in undeath. She alone could release it.
"Ugh, you sicken me," the mage said, and stood up, the undead phallus slipping out of her sloppy vaginal canal. The thing still stood there, thrusting in mid air, only wobbling a bit now without her hips to hold onto, as if it were a gruesome machine built solely for that purpose. She stood there naked, leaning over a rock, looking over the crowd of animated corpses, her lady meat dripping unused lubricant down her inner thighs, and thought what a miserable failure this experiment was.
She'd mastered the art of animating this foul flesh, of energizing the undead cocks, but nothing she did gave her the real pleasure and fulfillment she sought. Sure, she had attained undead mastery, but at what cost? Loneliness and isolation, pain and misery? The smell of death made her vulva drip with lust, but her mind sought challenge. She put her dainty elven hand between her legs and rubbed her clit absently out of habit until a voice behind her startled her out of her thoughts.
"You really mustn't punish yourself, so, my sister" a soft male voice said behind her. She felt living male hands on her hips, holding her firmly, then felt a tingle as a shaft entered her slippery nest, slowly finding all the right spots. It wasn't really fulfilling but it felt good enough for a release of the day's pent up energies. She pushed back into him, her small ass grinding into his pelvis. He reached down and grabbed a cheek in each hand pushing his moistened thumbs into her wet anus as he thrust his thin elven cock into her pulsating sex. That pushed her over the edge and she came violently, her ass shivering against him.
She reached back and pushed him out of her, turning to face him, her beautiful eyes sparkling with blue fire. "I told you not do do that, fool brother."
"Yes, but you didn't resist, dear sister," Morlon smiled, his meat still standing at attention, her juices dripping from the end.
The shadows behind him became alive and a deathly pale, horribly skinny female materialized from them. Her eyes were fully black and as she smiled, her teeth appeared to carry the same pallor. Morlon's sister, Ariana, looked past his shoulder at the approaching undead waif. The creature moved to stand behind Morlon, pressing against his back, and grasped his penis and began to work it up and down, gently at first, then with increasing speed, until he was his final release dripped upon the floor. The undead creature knelt down, its mouth around his cock and drained him of any fluids that might have remained. Morlon grabbed it by the back of the head and thrust into it fully, taking the opportunity to relieve his much strained bladder into the undead maid's throat, its cadaverous abdomen swelling with the extra fluid. He mused to himself how fortunate he was that the undead never gagged.
"You have always been so talented with them," Ariana said, approvingly. "I have recently achieved mastery, yet, something is lacking."
"You seek oneness, my sister," Morlon answered, knowingly. "It is something I dare not attempt. To use them to my own ends of pleasure is one thing, but to become one with them, that is something else entirely. Something that frightens even me." He pushed aside the undead creature and willed it away.
Ariana nodded, acknowledging the statement. "It is the truth you speak, brother. Yet, the spell escapes me."
"Patience, love, " he said and kissed her. Her lips were lightning to him and he reveled in the touch, her tongue, wet and soft, the essence of passion. Yet it was one-sided passion. She could use him to assuage her unfulfilled desires, but she would never feel for him as he felt for her.
Growing up, thrust together out of need for survival, they had been each other's means of existence in a cruel underworld bereft of parental protection. Only, while he had only grown more enamored of her, with her strength and intelligence, she longed for something else, something that eluded her. So, he sought true love in the dead, just as she did, hoping that there he would find the answer she sought. He knew when a measure had failed her, she would be frustrated and he could take advantage, joining with her, this elven woman he admired more than anything. He felt he could convince her that he was all she needed. That they could both abandon this nightmarish quest for undead mastery and take solace in each other's arms.
As he kissed her, he felt an erection approaching again and it pressed between her legs where the slippery lubricant still clung, her lips parting at the base of an inverted triangle formed by her thighs and pelvis. She broke the kiss and pushed him back and turned away. "No."
He stood there, fuming, angry, sad, lustful, her naked body and her refusal of his love both maddening.
He finally turned away and said, "fine." He left her there in the shadows and walked away.
She wept in the brooding silence, the rustling, shifting sounds of the undead the only audible things in the cavern.
(Next: Rogues, Indeed)
In the center of a sprawling cavern, the furthest reaches of which were buried in shimmering shadow and etched with lines of ashen light, a comely elven mage with silver hair and blue-white skin leaned against a rough black standing stone, palms out, bent over, her skinny rear end perked out and her legs spread a bit more than the width of her narrow shoulders. Behind her was a line of ghastly creatures of all shapes and sizes but with a few things in common. They were all dead, all male, and all had permanent erections. In fact, their collective penises were the only part of them intact, for the most part.
Next to her was a pedestal with a bowl, a bowl containing a lubricant she had concocted herself. It would keep her pussy pliable but kill any strange things these former grave denizens might be carrying around. The next one in line stepped up at her command. It's penis stood straight up at attention. She put her hand in the bowl and then reached back to slather its member with lubricant. Then she signaled for it to step forward and its base animal instinct took over. It clawed at her waist and hips with its cadaverous skeletal hands, thrusting its undead cock into her almost inviting vagina, the electric energy she channeled through it entering the creature and feeding its desire. Through her it saw a means to end its eternal torment in undeath. She alone could release it.
"Ugh, you sicken me," the mage said, and stood up, the undead phallus slipping out of her sloppy vaginal canal. The thing still stood there, thrusting in mid air, only wobbling a bit now without her hips to hold onto, as if it were a gruesome machine built solely for that purpose. She stood there naked, leaning over a rock, looking over the crowd of animated corpses, her lady meat dripping unused lubricant down her inner thighs, and thought what a miserable failure this experiment was.
She'd mastered the art of animating this foul flesh, of energizing the undead cocks, but nothing she did gave her the real pleasure and fulfillment she sought. Sure, she had attained undead mastery, but at what cost? Loneliness and isolation, pain and misery? The smell of death made her vulva drip with lust, but her mind sought challenge. She put her dainty elven hand between her legs and rubbed her clit absently out of habit until a voice behind her startled her out of her thoughts.
"You really mustn't punish yourself, so, my sister" a soft male voice said behind her. She felt living male hands on her hips, holding her firmly, then felt a tingle as a shaft entered her slippery nest, slowly finding all the right spots. It wasn't really fulfilling but it felt good enough for a release of the day's pent up energies. She pushed back into him, her small ass grinding into his pelvis. He reached down and grabbed a cheek in each hand pushing his moistened thumbs into her wet anus as he thrust his thin elven cock into her pulsating sex. That pushed her over the edge and she came violently, her ass shivering against him.
She reached back and pushed him out of her, turning to face him, her beautiful eyes sparkling with blue fire. "I told you not do do that, fool brother."
"Yes, but you didn't resist, dear sister," Morlon smiled, his meat still standing at attention, her juices dripping from the end.
The shadows behind him became alive and a deathly pale, horribly skinny female materialized from them. Her eyes were fully black and as she smiled, her teeth appeared to carry the same pallor. Morlon's sister, Ariana, looked past his shoulder at the approaching undead waif. The creature moved to stand behind Morlon, pressing against his back, and grasped his penis and began to work it up and down, gently at first, then with increasing speed, until he was his final release dripped upon the floor. The undead creature knelt down, its mouth around his cock and drained him of any fluids that might have remained. Morlon grabbed it by the back of the head and thrust into it fully, taking the opportunity to relieve his much strained bladder into the undead maid's throat, its cadaverous abdomen swelling with the extra fluid. He mused to himself how fortunate he was that the undead never gagged.
"You have always been so talented with them," Ariana said, approvingly. "I have recently achieved mastery, yet, something is lacking."
"You seek oneness, my sister," Morlon answered, knowingly. "It is something I dare not attempt. To use them to my own ends of pleasure is one thing, but to become one with them, that is something else entirely. Something that frightens even me." He pushed aside the undead creature and willed it away.
Ariana nodded, acknowledging the statement. "It is the truth you speak, brother. Yet, the spell escapes me."
"Patience, love, " he said and kissed her. Her lips were lightning to him and he reveled in the touch, her tongue, wet and soft, the essence of passion. Yet it was one-sided passion. She could use him to assuage her unfulfilled desires, but she would never feel for him as he felt for her.
Growing up, thrust together out of need for survival, they had been each other's means of existence in a cruel underworld bereft of parental protection. Only, while he had only grown more enamored of her, with her strength and intelligence, she longed for something else, something that eluded her. So, he sought true love in the dead, just as she did, hoping that there he would find the answer she sought. He knew when a measure had failed her, she would be frustrated and he could take advantage, joining with her, this elven woman he admired more than anything. He felt he could convince her that he was all she needed. That they could both abandon this nightmarish quest for undead mastery and take solace in each other's arms.
As he kissed her, he felt an erection approaching again and it pressed between her legs where the slippery lubricant still clung, her lips parting at the base of an inverted triangle formed by her thighs and pelvis. She broke the kiss and pushed him back and turned away. "No."
He stood there, fuming, angry, sad, lustful, her naked body and her refusal of his love both maddening.
He finally turned away and said, "fine." He left her there in the shadows and walked away.
She wept in the brooding silence, the rustling, shifting sounds of the undead the only audible things in the cavern.
(Next: Rogues, Indeed)
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