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)

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)

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)

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)

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)

Cobwebs

(Continued from: Betrayed)

When Arnold awoke, there was a splitting pain in the back of his head. He opened his eyes but everything was black, the deepest black he could ever imagine, and he feared he had lost his sight.

He tried to move and found he couldn't move his arms. Something secured them in place, something hard and metallic, like the shackles he had placed on so many criminals in the past. He tested leg movement; Also restrained. By the feel of hard brick pressing into his back and ass cheeks, he appeared to be naked, manacled to a wall and by the feel of it, he had a raging hard on.

Wherever he was, it smelled awful; Like shit and piss had gotten together and had a swampy lovechild. He thought he heard some light footsteps off to his left. He turned his head in that direction, attempting to discern anything in the complete blackness.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," said a female voice in a mocking, playful tone. 

The same voice said a strange word Arnold didn't understand and light flooded into his eyes as the inky blackness just vanished. Arnold blinked and tried to regain focus. When he could see again, he saw he was in a tunnel, likely a sewer tunnel, which would explain the smell. The tunnel ran in two directions, straight forward and to the left, and he was chained to the walls at a corner. A flickering lamp shed light on the greenish, wet surfaces all around. 

A thin, muscular female with skin the color of obsidian and stark, white hair held up in a tight ponytail stood in front of him. Her face was angular, cruel, and beautiful, all at once. She wore a strange armor that was also obsidian black that seemed to absorb light and move in perfect unison with her body. Indeed, it did little to hide her feminine features as it melded perfectly with them, the only thing giving it away as armor were the ridges and various daggers stored in sheathes here and there. The unusual woman was half a foot or so shorter than him, which put her in the position to look up at him, when speaking.

"My, you're an ugly human, aren't you?" she said. Then, she looked down at his pulsing erection. "But what an impressive stallion you are! You will fetch a handsome price, indeed." She reached out with her delicate hand and wrapped her supple fingers around his thick shaft. Her fingers nearly -- but not quite -- touched around the massive member and she seemed impressed by the fact. 

She smiled at him and said, "I shall leave you in the more than capable hands of my dominie and we shall see what you are made of, human." She turned and walked away, the strange armor hugging her rear with perfect precision as her hips swayed back and forth with elegant grace. Arnold, in spite of himself, couldn't tear his eyes away from the shadow of that amazing cleft. The motion quickened his heartbeat instantly and a long, sticky strand of clear fluid spilled out of his synchronously bobbing cock. 

She stopped short and sniffed the air, turning her head so he could see her thin lips move as she spoke again. 

"You humans exude such base scents when aroused." She turned again and continued down the hall until she disappeared in the shadows.

Arnold hung his head and looked at his erect phallus. He wasn't feeling the least bit aroused, so the fact that his penis was hard as a rock was a mystery to him. He could feel every last bit of it, a hypersensitivity that nearly made him ejaculate just by flexing the muscles around it. He decided to stop doing that for the moment. It was then that a disembodied voice spoke to him from somewhere near him. 

"That would be the Meenlock potion," said the voice. "It's made from the skin of a dead Meenlock. At some point it was discovered that a small amount of it, rubbed on a creature's sexual organs, or any other place, for that matter, would induce a rigor state. My mistress finds this quite useful with her slaves."

Arnold looked around anxiously, trying to determine the source of the voice. He felt something soft and warm wrap around his penis but he could see nothing. The smell of perfume filled the air and Arnold felt himself fall into a daze as something invisible, slippery, and wet moved up his leg, wrapped around it, slithering up and around his waist. The thing wrapped around his cock, moved back and forth, undulating slowly, keeping him on the edge of orgasm, but not quite pushing him over. The slippery, rope-like thing wrapped around his waist moved up his belly, crawling, feeling about like an earthworm head. It crawled up around his neck, then back down, joining the tortuous pleasure of the invisible thing on his dick. It continued around his scrotum then forced its slippery way between his ass cheeks and into his anus. It didn't hurt, it slipped in and expanded slowly. The tingling sensations it gave him were maddeningly pleasureful. Hot liquid spewed forth from it and Arnold could feel his insides filling up with liquid; Filling, filling, so full he felt. 

The worm thing slithered out of him and all the liquid inside him followed, spilling on the floor, covering his legs. It entered again, filling him again and leaving, letting him empty all over the floor. A drain below him carried the putrid liquid away and the cycle repeated again and again until he felt his insides would empty with the liquid. 

The worm eventually stopped invading his bowels, sucking them, cleaning them. Arnold closed his eyes and slumped over, hanging by the manacles on his wrists, bending his knees to hang there, his insane erection pointing almost at the floor, the invisible pleasure folds still working on him. How he hadn't climaxed already was beyond him.

Arnold felt a breath on his cheek and several pricks of pain on his back. The maddening invisible penis massager carried on without stopping. When Arnold finally opened his eyes, he gasped in horror at what he saw. Below him was the biggest spider he'd ever seen with its spider legs wrapped around, poking him in the back, and he appeared to be fucking it! No, her! This spider had a naked human female torso! He stood up again, struggling against the chains that held him fast to the wall but he couldn't budge the bonds. The spider woman had a pretty face, but, by the gods, she was terrifying.

As his gaze was fixed on the face of the female drider who was enjoying his permanent erection, he felt a jarring, scraping sensation work its way through the chains. A section of the wall behind him disappeared into the floor, revealing a doorway in the wall behind him, exposing him to the darkness beyond, where another voice, this one male spoke.

"Ah, the worm has cleaned him, good. I see you are enjoying our mistress's latest piece of meat, Bejora, "

the voice said coldly.

"Yes Jyron, this one is well-endowed," the spider bitch replied.

Arnold felt cool hands on his hips. He turned his head to see another of the spider things only this one was male and was looking at him with a malevolent grin. Arnold struggled against the bonds to no avail.

"Oh, please struggle more, human! It makes your manhood swell sensationally!" Bejora exclaimed.

Arnold's heart sank. There appeared to be no escape for him. He felt the cool, scaly abdomen of Jyron lean on his backside as something grew straight out of the drider's lower abdomen. It was a phallus and as it grew longer it grew right into Arnold's anus, stretching it out, filling him up. It grew and grew until it felt like it must be club-sized and then it stopped growing. 

"Yes, I think that will do nicely," Jyron purred and began to ram its pseudo-dick into Arnold painfully hard. Arnold struggled again but he was still unable to move or break the bonds. He felt like his ass was being split open. "I love it when you clench, human toy," Jyron said into Arnold's ear. In and out the thing went for what seemed like hours. The two demented driders worked on him from both ends until the pain and pleasure was too much and Arnold passed out.

When Arnold woke again, he was still chained, his penis limp, legs bent, wrists bloodied from bearing the weight of his large frame. He looked down and, by the light of the wavering lamp, he could see a puddle of blood below him. His inner thighs were slick with blood and his asshole was on fire but he was alone. The two tormentors had left him here. He vomited, once, twice, three times and passed out again.

(Next: Ariana)

Betrayed

(Continued from: Discovery)

"So, you see, my good man, nothing could be truer than the fact that women, in their endless pursuit of that folly, will ever be enamored by men such as myself," Lord Grant surmised to his walking companion, a one Lord Wilhelm of Brantingham, House of Redsham.

"I must agree that my observations do support your point of view, Gran," Lord Wilhelm chuckled. "Pray they continue to 'bend' to your charms for the foreseeable future!"

The two lords stopped suddenly as a pair of individuals, one blond-haired male in a green tunic and ill-fitting red trousers, and the other a female in a fine black cloak, hood pulled over her head and her curly brown hair spilling out around the sides, burst forth from the door to Lord Idelson's manor. The two odd characters looked this way and that and bolted in the opposite direction of the two gape-mouthed lords.

"Idelson entertains all sorts of murky types, these days, it seems," Lord Wilhelm snorted disdainfully.

"Indeed, the entire township shall be beset by rogues 'fore we know it." Lord Grant agreed. "Anyway, as I was saying..."

●●●

"This way," Tristan urged the cloaked woman who was following him. They exited the double front doors of the old manor house in a hurry, nearly tearing the doors off the hinges and leaving behind a very confused old cook wiping the sleep out of her eyes in the foyer. Their sudden exit startled two finely-dressed gentlemen on the dirty cobblestone street in front of the house. They ignored the two men and proceeded in the other direction. The gray, overcast skies above lent a gloom to the outdoors and moisture seemed to cling to everything, particularly the street, making navigation hazardous.

Tristan knew of an abandoned warehouse a few blocks from their current location that would offer some shelter. As if in answer to his thoughts, they heard Arnold cursing at the top of his lungs at the cook back in the manor house, demanding to know where the couple who had just sprinted down the stairs had gone.

●●●

"I don't rightly know," was all the cook said in answer to Arnold's question as to the whereabouts of the strange pair who had just run through, remembering his grotesque grab at her earlier. "Now, if yous don't mind, I've plenty of work to do feedin' the bunch that will be wakin' up soon, if ye haven't already woken them up with all your commotion."

Arnold pushed the doors open roughly, stepped outside, and looked around. Two dandy's had just passed the front door. They must have seen that little urchin, Tristan and the cunt who had put a bolt in his arm and kneed him in the balls.

"You there! Good sirs!" Arnold put on his best manners, though they befit not his shabbily put together self. His arm was a mess from his hasty bandage job and his trousers were splattered with semen, bits of shit, vomit, and blood.

"The scoundrels Idelson keeps in his house these days! Just keep moving, Wil," one said and ushered the other along, quickening their pace at the sight of the disheveled townguard.

Arnold caught site of two figures disappearing around a corner further up the street, past the two lords. He took off in a run after them, his boots thudding on the pavement under his great weight, small puddles of water splashing in their wake.

●●●

Haline found it increasingly difficult to maintain the pace Tristan kept in their flight. She hadn't slept properly in quite some time and, as the adrenalin from the early morning terror was wearing off, the muscles in her legs complained bitterly while her pelvis was still sore from the abuse of the strange creatures that had so violently raped her. Added to that was the fact that the cloak wasn't so thick as to keep out the wet chill of the air since she wore nothing under it. She struggled to keep it close around her as she ran. Her bare feet were sore from running on the cobblestones and she had to look down constantly to avoid broken glass and sharp stones in the street. She hoped the young man she followed had some destination in mind that would offer some respite from this chase. She feared she'd not be able to keep it up for long.

She almost ran into Tristan's back when he stopped suddenly in front of her, putting a finger to his lips. They were standing in front of an old building with window frames that hadn't seen glass in a very long time. They had run all the way to the docks and across from the building was a seawall where boats were docked, bobbing silently in their mooring, the calm water reflecting the gray, mist-shrouded sky above.

Tristan knocked lightly on the old door to the place, two long raps then three quick raps immediately after. This was followed by another succession of taps from the inside of the door, to which Tristan responded with four more short raps. The door creaked open slightly and Tristan peered inside. The door opened wide enough for them to enter. The person who had opened it and was obscured in shadow allowed Tristan passage but held out a wrinkled hand to stop Haline from entering.

"Who be the pretty one?" a raspy voice asked Tristan.

Haline could feel herself being appraised by a shriveled face shrouded in the darkness of the building's interior.

"She's with me. I'll explain later, " Tristan said finally. "Now come on, let us in. Arnold's after us."

●●●

Arnold was almost out of breath. He hadn't run so hard in years. He really needed to catch that whore and her accomplice, the former guard, Tristan. If the little fucker spread word of what happened in Lord Idelson's manor, he'd be jailed or worse. He stopped and gasped for breath, the salty, fishy air alerting him that he was near the docks district. Decrepit warehouses and shacks lined the well worn streets here. He could almost feel the eyes of its inhabitants peering at him from the many gaping windows.

He leaned over and put his hands on his knees to rest. When he could breath evenly again, he looked all around him and saw no sign of the two conspirators. He hadn't really expected to. The boy and the wench were much more nimble than Arnold, with his hulking frame. "Shit," he said mostly to himself.

"Hey," a voice called from an trash-strewn alley to his left. "You lookin' for them two what went running by a bit ago?"

Arnold couldn't believe his luck. "Yes! which way did they go?"

"Come o'er here and I'll draw ye summat map," a wizened old man said to him. "Them two looked up to no good, they did." The old man, looking much like a vagabond, the sort of which frequent the docs district, sat near a wall about head height that lined the alley way and surrounded a cemetery, judging by the monuments that peeked above the wall line here and there. 

Arnold felt slightly uneasy about the strangeness of the situation, but his need for revenge and silencing the boy and his new slut friend drove him on and he approached the old man. The latter leaned forward and extended his finger as if to draw a map on the dirty cobblestones. 

Arnold heard a shuffling above him and looked up just in time to see a heavy rope net being dropped on him from above by two men who had appeared atop the wall. He shouted and struggled in the net but its voluminous folds wrapped him securely. Something landed heavily on the back of his head and darkness followed.

●●●

By all the gods, it felt good to bathe, Haline thought to herself. Tristan had convinced the gruff old man who had let them in to give them some privacy and a wash basin with some hot water. After the events of last night and this morning, she needed a bath in a very bad way. The blood, semen, vomit, and various other fluids that were caked on her reeked and she had never felt dirtier. 

The boy had even put up an old sheet he had found to give her some privacy. Not that she was completely clueless as to the fact that he was watching her from behind the sheet. His movements were just clumsy enough to give himself away.

●●●

Tristan peeked through a hole in the tattered sheet that had been draped around an old washtub where the mysterious woman from the manor now bathed herself. She leaned over the tub, naked, her rear end facing him, her dark hair hanging down her back in long tangled curls. He could feel an erection growing while he peered in at her. In the flickering lamplight of the dirty warehouse office, shadows played across her skin, now and then briefly giving him glimpses of her pussy lips protruding from between her thighs. Her smooth, olive-toned skin suited the lean roundness of her ass and her gorgeous, muscled legs. 

Wetness leaked from the end of Tristan's penis and spotted the trousers he had stolen from the manor house. The naked woman he had led to this place now lifted a leg and placed a foot on the edge of the basin as she washed the blood off her crotch and inner thighs. This afforded him a full view of her womanhood glistening in the lamplight, the dark hair covering the lips glittering with beads of water and soap. His heart raced and he felt as if he would explode. 

Tristan had some experience with younger girls before but never with a woman like this. This one was exotic and curvy, muscular and lithe and it made him burn with lust to look at her bathing. And he had saved her life! Well, kind of. He certainly had helped.

●●●

She gave him a little show while she bathed. Sex wasn't the first thing on her mind after being raped by a demon, but letting the boy watch her bathe might solidify any alliances they had formed and at least make him her willing slave. Boys will be boys, so use it to your advantage, she told herself.

●●●

He couldn't take it anymore. He unlaced his pants and pulled out his cock and proceeded to pull on it while watching the sultry woman bathe, her fingers now tracing the shape of her ass cheeks, rubbing the soap into her skin, one finger disappearing into the crevice to clean any blood that might have gotten up that far. She rinsed the area and reached for a dirty towel the old man had provided. Tristan shuddered, closed his eyes, and came all over the floor, the image of the woman's glistening pussy still in his mind as he furiously finished himself off.

His eyes still closed, breathing heavily, he didn't notice when the sheet moved to the side and the olive-skinned woman silently walked over and stood in front of him, holding the dingy towel loosely around herself, covering her breasts but not quite covering her bottom, leaving her dark pubic hair to peek out from under the towel's edge. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he opened his eyes and saw her there, the musky smell of her body clearly evident, she was so close. She smiled, looked down at his dick, still in his hand and both covered with his fluids, and arched an eyebrow.

●●●

She heard Tristan come as she dried off, his heavy breathing giving him away easily. She wrapped a towel loosely around her, leaving some temptation slightly exposed and stealthily walked over to the sheet. Moving it aside slowly, she smiled at his dick in his hand and semen all over his hand and floor, and stood in front of him, waiting for him to open his eyes. 

When he did, he started in surprise -- men really were oblivious when they were in the throes of a good climax. She smiled and looked down at the mess around his crotch again, arching her eyebrow questioningly.

"I... I, " he stammered, obviously unable to excuse himself for spying on her and getting himself off in the process. How sweet.

"Haline," she said, and extended her hand in greeting. He reached out with his other hand so she quickly switched hands to shake it. The motion caused her to drop her towel, almost accidentally. The boy looked down at her nakedness and blushed, looking away quickly.

"Come now, you weren't so coy when you were watching me bathe, little boy," Haline teased purringly. She moved closer to him and placed a hand behind his neck, pulling his lips close to her own. Their lips brushed slightly and she could feel his breath quicken. She reached down and freed his stiffening cock from his come covered hand and pressed her naked body against him, his hard member trapped vertically between them. She raised his fingers to her mouth and licked them lasciviously, the semen on them tasting salty and smelling musky. 

Tristan, speechless, seemed unaware of what to do, so she stood back from him and pulled his unlaced pants down. She pushed lightly against his skinny chest, motioning for him to sit on the wooden crate behind him. She straddled him and sat on his lap, facing him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard on the mouth, her tongue playfully flicking around inside, toying with his own tongue. She felt his cock bump against her still sore vagina. 

Having him inside her pussy was going to be painful so she spit on her hand and mingled it with the come already on his dick, instantly renewing the natural lubricant he had so helpfully spilled out all over himself earlier. She pressed the hard cock close to her anus and leaned back slightly, feeling the tight ring of flesh opening to allow the slippery head entry. She squeezed the muscle hard and forced the head out, Tristan shuddering in ecstasy. This would work nicely, she thought, and pushed the head back into her asshole, pushing out while pushing him in. She then sat down fully, leaning back, taking his full cock in. 

Despite her intentions, she couldn't ignore how good Tristan's manhood felt inside her ass, its stiffness pressing hard against the wall of her organs and forcing a moan of pleasure as her pussy leaked the wetness of lust out onto his blond pubic hair. She put a hand on his neck and pulled his lips to hers, kissing him again and again as she rode him mercilessly. She felt the hot semen explode inside her as his body trembled in response to his intense orgasm. She put her hand down and rubbed her sopping wet clit furiously, wanting, needing a release. His dick pulsed as it shot its fluids inside her. She clenched her ass muscles and milked the boy's giving tree as hard as she could, her slimy hand circling around her clit rapidly until she climaxed, and collapsed on the boy, her heart racing, her breath coming in gasps. They both felt one last twinge of pleasure as his softening dick slipped out of her ass and flopped against her inner thigh.

This wasn't quite what she had planned.

(Next: Cobwebs)

Discovery

(Continued from: Delicious Death)

"Please hurry sirs," begged the portly house cook, "as there was some dreadful commotion upstairs and there's summat red dripping from the ceiling oer there!"

The three guards looked the woman over skeptically and one largish one, presumably the leader, said, "Alright, sirrah, we'll be lookin' into it."

Another, a large, well-muscled man, walked to the spot she'd indicated and inspected the red substance dripping from the ceiling with his finger and glibly spoke, "Yep, 'tis blood, it is!" He wiped his finger on his worn, brown leather breeches.

"Right then," said the leader of the bunch. "Looks like we got a possible crime to investigate here," then quietly he winked and muttered to the other two, "never know with these noble types," to which they chuckled agreeingly.

The leader turned to the cook, moved close, grabbed her crotch through the thin nightshift and, his breath smelling of onions and ale, and said to her, "maybe yous got something I need to investigate first, eh?" The other two guards snickered.

She pushed him away and growled, "nothin' you could handle, pig. Now, get up there and see what all that noise was about and maybe I'll not report you to your commander," then rushed down the darkened hallway, candle in front, one hand cupped to keep it from going out as she moved swiftly away from the leering guards.

"Oh, come on love, you know its been a right long time since one such as meself pleasured ye!" He shouted down the hall after her. Rebuffed, he turned to his fellows and spoke, "all right boys, let's do some investigatin'." The leader, Brak, started up the stairs and the largest guard, Arnold, hung back to let the smallest, Tristan go before him. As the biggest, he'd be best to bring up the rear, he rationalized.

As the three made their way up the stairs, Arnold looked back, keeping a sharp eye out for followers. Seeing none, he focused his attention in front of him on the stairs and he noticed Tristan's lovely little ass in tight leather breeches making its way up the stairs, each step Tristan took squeezing it slightly. Since Tristan had joined the town guardship, Arnold had been silently watching him and he now felt a rising sensation in his own breeches. Swallowing hard, he gripped the short sword in the scabbard hanging on his waist, trying to focus on the task at hand.

If these blokes were to find out he was into men, young men like Tristan, especially, there'd be hell to pay. Arnold found himself caring less and less lately though. Maybe he would confess his love for Tristan, they'd give Brak the slip, steal some jewels from this noble manor and buy a tract of land in the country and live together where Arnold could look at Tristan's dreamy ass every day. A sharp hiss from Brak awoke him from the musings.

Brak had reached the entrance to the room they determined to be just above the dripping blood on the first floor, and had stopped putting a finger to his lips. With his ear pressed to the door, he thought he heard some soft rustling in the room. The burly guard motioned Tristan and Arnold close and whispered, "I think we might have some noble games going on in there if you catch my meaning," and smiled lasciviously as he placed his hand on the door handle. They might get some entertainment and maybe even get their rocks off in the process. These scheming nobles sometimes were willing to do anything to keep their bedchamber secrets.

As Brak opened the door slowly, he stopped quickly, causing Arnold to stumble into Tristan from behind, the hard cock in his leather breeches ramming into Tristan's back.

"What in the hells, Arnold?" Tristan asked but Arnold made a face like he wasn't sure what all the fuss was about.

"Nothin'," Arnold said, glad that the somewhat dark hall hid his reddening face.

"You two lovers shut up and take a look at this!" Brak whispered excitedly.

Tristan and Arnold looked past his shoulder and nearly lost their breath. In the gloom of the room, the only light coming from a broken window that let in some of the growing daylight of the morning, they caught the sight of a beautiful woman laying on the bed, in fetal position, naked, her back covered in blood and her dark, curly hair thickly matted. Her pussy and ass were covered with blood too, her swollen labia protruding from between her thighs, blatantly visible to the three. All of them except Brak squirmed uncomfortably at the sight, unsure of whether to be turned on, sickened, or worried for their lives. Arnold took a step back.

"Where are you going?" Brak asked. "Ain't nothing but some whore left behind by one of these debaucherous nobles. Looks like she's still alive. Maybe we can have a bit o' fun tonight. Tristan, go over and see if she's alive."

Tristan looked around questioningly, clearly not wanting to go into the room which he now noticed smelled strongly of blood. A shove from Brak ended his questioning and he took a few steps into the room. On the fourth step he slipped in something in the dark and fell flat on his back, nearly driving the breath out of his lungs. When he found he could breathe again, he looked sideways and gasped in horror.

What was left of something that could loosely be termed as human lay on the floor, its torso ripped open and its contents strewn about the floor. The exposed inner lining of its ribcage shone wetly in the dim light of the room. The legs and arms had been gnawed on and the bones were visible in places. Tristan vomited uncontrollably and tried to stand, his feet slipping in the slimy blood that was all over the floor.

"What in the nine hells?" cried Brak, who steered wide of Tristan as he entered the room. "Shit," was all he said when he saw the mutilated corpse on the floor. He motioned to Tristan and ordered Arnold, "get the boy here to the next room up the hall and wait for me there. I got the girl."

Arnold reached under the arms of the still lurching Tristan and heaved him up from behind. Tristan's small frame gave way under Arnold's strong arms and Arnold carried him out of the room, turning left and moving to the next door. He wrapped one arm around Tristan's boyish waist and used his other hand to open the door. He put Tristan down on the bed, face first. Tristan groaned and squirmed on the sheets, still sick to his stomach. Arnold just watched him move around and again felt the uncontrollable swelling in his pants. His reverie was interrupted by the sound of Brak's heavy breathing at the door behind him.

"If yer done staring at the boy's arse, you can help me get this wench cleaned up. She's still alive, but barely," Brak said.

"I weren't lookin' at 'is arse, damn you," Arnold said unconvincingly and Tristan jumped up from the bed, anxiously looking through the dresser drawers in the room, throwing out things he imagined only a dandy noble would wear, looking for something more useful than silk leggings and poofy trousers.

"What're you doin', lad, " Brak asked.

The blond guard turned around, pointing to his clothes which were fouled with blood and vomit. "Tryin' to find some new clothes. These is ruined."

Brak ignored him and turned to Arnold, the mess of a woman over his shoulder, her pussy lips and asshole exposed to the room between delectable thighs and ass cheeks. The blood and other... stuff... covering them didn't even make them offensive, Arnold thought to himself. The strain in his pants grew.

"Stop leering, boy lover, this one's mine," Brak growled. He moved toward what appeared to be a powder room, entered, and shut the door behind him. The click of a lock ended the conversation and Arnold's hopes of tasting that lusty twat tonight. He turned around to see what Tristan was doing and found some new entertainment.

Tristan had his pants off, hopping on one foot trying to get another pair on, his smooth ass bouncing slightly with each movement. Arnold, still having a massive erection from earlier moved silently to a spot behind Tristan. The dresser on one side and the wall on the other caged in the half-naked young man nicely. Arnold smiled to himself, thought to himself, "Well its now or never," and unlaced the front of his trousers. His giant, thick cock spilled out, several drops of clear come leaving the tip and stretching toward the floor.

Arnold held his cock in one hand, smearing the pre-come and some spit on the head and stroking it to get a little more. He quietly but quickly moved up behind Tristan and pressed his dick against Tristan's naked ass, the young man's cheeks spreading around its slick and upward turned shaft. He reached around and grabbed the youth's penis in one large hand while his other arm went around and held his captive by the waist.

"Wha-," Tristan started to say as he felt an ungodly pain in his ass when Arnold forced his cock into the small hole. Arnold felt the warm anus stretch to accommodate his throbbing manhood and the rectum open up, pieces of shit grinding against his dick as he shoved his member further in until his balls smacked against the smooth skin behind Tristan's scrotum. He pulled out a tiny amount and jammed it back in an a few quick successions before he pulled it almost all the way out  and jammed it back in, the tight pink entrance loosening up with each thrust.

Tristan howled in pain but was unable to move, being lifted up off his feet against the wall by Arnold's large frame. The well-endowed monster of a man behind him held him in a vice grip as the cock that had impaled him moved roughly in and out, making his whole lower half feel stuffed. He felt like he needed to take a massive shit but as the impaler pressed into him, he felt an unfamiliar sensation rushing through his own member. His seed started spilling out of his dick of its own accord as tingling sensations forced it to stiffen in Arnold's hand.

"That's it, me boy. Hoped you'd take to it eventually!" Arnold grunted in the boy's ear from behind as he jammed his erection into Tristan one more time and held it while stroking Tristan's dick that was slimy from his milked semen. Tristan felt something hot filling him up inside as Arnold ejaculated, his huge body shuddering against Tristan's back. Tristan came almost immediately, covering the wall with his ejaculate.

He slumped in Arnold's grasp, unable to move, his legs weak and his ass burning. As Arnold's softening member slipped out, Tristan felt his heart skip a beat at the emptying of his rectum. He let out a long flatulence and what seemed like a gallon of semen spilled down his legs and onto the floor. He put his fingers back to feel the stretched out hole. By the gods it was sore and probably bleeding, he thought. "I'll get that fucker."

Arnold had collapsed on the bed face up, snoring noisily, his trousers around his ankles still. His cock, no longer looking ungodly huge, lay flopped to the side, the large hairy scrotum moving slightly with each snore. Tristan grabbed his dagger from where he'd stripped off his breeches earlier and quietly slipped over to where Arnold lay, oblivious to his approach. As he was about to grab Arnold's unit and castrate the dirty rapist, there was a yell from the room Brak had taken the whore. It sounded like Brak.

Tristan ran to the dresser and struggled to get the clean pair of pants on, ignoring the sticky fluids still clinging to his legs. He managed to get them on and strap his dagger and sword sheath around his waist. He was about to run out the door, down the hall, and out of that accursed house when a woman's voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"You touch that door handle and I'll put a bolt in your skull," she said. He turned around and saw a loaded crossbow pointed at his head, held by a beautiful naked woman, the same one Brak brought in from the other room.

He raised his hands. "W-Where is Brak?" He stammered.

"Let's just say he is incapacitated... permanently," she said and then stiffened as she felt a dagger at her throat held by a very large man standing behind her.

"Drop it," Arnold ordered. She dropped the crossbow but it triggered in the fall. The bolt happened to impale the bicep of the arm holding the dagger and Arnold dropped it as he howled in pain. "You fucking bitch!"

She turned around and jammed her knee into his crotch while he was trying to pull out the bolt. She was smaller than him but still managed to double him over in pain. She shoved him with her foot and he stumbled back, crashing over the foot of the bed and falling to the floor on the other side. The boy she'd pointed the crossbow at earlier saw his salvation from Arnold's abuse in her. He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her out the door. "This way!" he cried.

"Wait, why should I follow you?" She demanded. "You were with these lowlifes!"

"Not anymore," he said. "But I don't care. You can follow me or not, I'm getting out of this gods-forsaken place!"

There was a loud fumbling sound coming from the room they had just left and she sighed figuring that, given the dead body in the master bedroom, and the other two near them, there wasn't much else she could do but follow this boy. She shivered as she thought about all she'd been through the last night. Her rendez-vous with a secret lover, the attack by whatever those creatures were, the rape, the torture, the capture again by these thugs. It was too much, but at least these were humans. She could deal with them. Those other things were beyond her. She sighed again and ran down the hall and stairs after the blond former guard, stopping to grab a cloak from the coat closet on the bottom floor to help hide her nudity and the violence that had been visited on her body.

(Next: Betrayed)