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Ch.14 : Downfall Of A Barbarian King

A new message was sent to the wizard Aribor in Bricas. He had responded to the name of Remzain, he could do no other. A meeting with beautiful Remzain was arranged. She went with Pelancirian guards in plain clothing, to stay nearby, but at some distance, so as not to alarm the Grumandrian wizard.

Aribor looked very different from the frightening barbarian sorcerer he had been when she had first been made subject to his contract on the day of the conquest. He had taken to washing, in the Shalirionite fashion. His hair, still long and greying had been cut to tidier length, and had been dyed to turn the natural greys into softer brown. He wore not the dark robe of a sorcerer of Grumandria and currently bore no arms or armour on his person. He had chosen lighter coloured robes of Shalirionite style, yellow and orange with white patterns. His formidable moustache had been manicured and he was completely beardless. It surely did appear that he had taken to many of the ways of Shalirion and Bricas, where he now resided.

They greeted each other respectfully at arm’s length, despite the physical intensity which had once passed between them. Both, perhaps for different reasons, seemed in awe of each other.

To her questions he explained his behaviour at Bricas and said he was more humane and sensible now. “I see the spell I was under with Guthelm and Valdark, but now I am reluctant to use my darkest arts. I no longer serve Guthelm. I realise the errors and the evil of our ways. Neither do I serve King Charlerion. I do not see why Charlerion should depose Guthelm and take over Grumandria. I think Grumandria should remain Grumandrian, but I do not see who should rule. I suppose it might be possible for Charlerion to carry it out, but it is no business of mine.

“Remzain there is only one deal I might do with Charlerion for his aid, and that would involve him giving you back to me. I do not see him doing that because you are very beautiful and he will want to keep you. I know this.”

“I do not think he will do that,” said Remzain, knowing Charlerion would not, but feeling insecure at the thought that her master might use her as a bargaining counter to further his ambitions.

“I do not think you want to be returned to me either,” said Aribor, showing understanding which he would not have betrayed in his past life.

“No, I do not. Charlerion treats me well, and I have a passion for him, although I do not wish to see him control my homeland.”

The wizard deliberated momentarily, “Well, if he wants my support enough he could lease you to me. That is a deal I would do to offer my sorcerous assistance. Go back to him, tell him he could lease you for a period, or give me a once weekly access to your bedchamber. Will you do that for him and for me?”

A naughty smile crept over her face. To defeat the scourge of Grumandria, to satisfy her master Charlerion, and to reward Aribor for his changed ways she might just do this. A deal might be possible. Charlerion had used her with his friends and lovers in his orgies. He might not be averse to using her in this way, as long as it was not made into a public spectacle.

“Charlerion has given me permission to strike such a bargain with you before I came here. I do this on his behalf, after all. He will not give me up for a period of time, as he wants me in his own bed and at his own disposal much of the time, but he will allow you to have full use of me for one evening in each week of a full year starting from the present moment, as long as you work hard towards the task of removing Guthelm, by killing, or by some magic which might remove all his power permanently and leave the throne of Grumandria open to King Charlerion. You are guaranteed the full year whether or not we are successful in our venture, but its continuation will only be allowed if you are successful in removing Guthelm or have had a significant part to play in his downfall by then. In the event of success you may claim another second year of weekly access. My master Charlerion will have control over where I may be on his business, but you will be guaranteed access to me on one regular weekly night. It will be up to you to be at my side on that evening wherever I may be You must leave me no later than 1 o clock of that night, and you may sometimes choose not to be at my side if you are engaged in your mission or are travelling elsewhere.”

“I can agree to that, Remzain. I desire very much to have you again. I don’t owe Charlerion anything, and I do not do any of this for him. I see this as a way to end the chaos of Guthelm. That is why I can accept this task. But it is our agreement which enables me to enter the risks and challenges of this task. It is my necessary reward.

“Can we begin our agreement now?”

“Yes we can, if that is your wish. We have clinched the deal. But first let us shake hands to seal this deal,” she insisted.

They both stood and came forward to meet in the middle, extending their right hands. At first touch they both felt the power and significance muğla escort of this contract, even though Aribor employed no magic in this contact. They kept their hands together. He was unwilling to break the contact. Finally after minutes in which they surveyed each other, she broke the contact. The deal was sealed, and now it was about to be sealed again in a more physical way. She unclasped her Animarian dress at the shoulder and turned.

“Please, unclip me,” she invited him.

He reached to her back and unclipped her. The dress fell away to reveal her slender and beautiful flesh. There remained undergarments. “Help me,” she invited. As pants fell down her legs, he spun her round to unbutton the front of the undercloth. Her nakedness was fully revealed, as wondrous as before. She had lived well these last months in the new palace of her master, but her relative youth had preserved her beauty intact. He surveyed her as crudely as he had before, but now the contract was one of equals, of free choice, despite her subjugation to Charlerion.

The ‘Old’ Aribor in Animar: Guthelm’s Servant

He entered the village, after the rebels had been put to the sword. Bodies of menfolk lay all over the village green. Eyes gouged out, stripped of their armour, and brutally executed. The soldiers divided the spoils. The village women, young and old were the only people left alive. Soldiers argued over which women they could have.

Aribor laughed at them when some soldiers started fighting each other over the pretty women. “Stop fighting you idiots. Save that for the King’s battles! If you want the same women toss a coin between you or take your turns. That is the best way, better than losing your legs or your head over a pretty woman. There are plenty to be had, enough for us all.”

He watched the soldiers take the women into the huts. Some of them shared the pretty ones at the same time, but others were unwilling to be watched while they took their pleasurable rewards.

Seeing the men take the women put the sorcerer in a lustful mood. He decided to see if he could find a woman or two. As he looked at the unselected women he realised quickly that the best looking women had been selected. The women remaining were old or unattractive in some way. These villagers were careworn and haggard by hard work and by the trials of the recent weeks of rebellion. Most of them looked older than they probably were, but this life brought them down. There were none here who appealed to Aribor as they were. He was used to fresher or more attractive ‘meat’. But Aribor was a sorcerer, a very experienced sorcerer. There were spells that could use the essence of a woman and bring back her youth temporarily. There was a cost, because the woman so used could be left weakened by the borrowing back of the years, and would return to age again within hours or days depending on the strength of the spells. The woman could be aged by the experience or would take longer to recover. The very old might die when they returned to age, from the effort of their restoration. Aribor cared not for the lives of these women. They were rebels and enemies of his King, bound now only for subservience for the rest of their lives. They might die sooner or later. It mattered little which. All of them, loyal subjects or rebels, Grumandrian or foreigner, soldier or wizard, all would die sooner or later. That made all the more reasons for him to enjoy life, when it offered any pleasure, whenever he could find it, and to live his life for the present. In an uncertain world no one could guarantee a safe future. He pledged to take the most pleasure from life when he could.

He surveyed the women. Old and haggard as they might mainly be, he did not particularly feel attracted to the younger ones amongst them, but some of the older ones had bone and flesh structures which appealed much to him. He used his insight to imagine them younger, and found a number of them much to his liking. He ordered some of the soldiers to keep a number of his favourites for him while he selected one older lady to work on. Now the fighting was over he found he relished his period of reward. He led her to a house and began his magic without further ado.

Grumandria

Lord Nathor was the Lord of lands in Grumandria. He had ridden to war for his King. He had blood on his hands for the service he had given. He and his men had killed opponents in the borderlands and the other lands of Animar, and now they saw service in distant Shalirion where his King sought pillage and conquest. He had been here some time now, and not all campaigns were proving successful. The Shalirionites were putting up more resistance than at first, and had even managed to defeat Guthelm in the Cromil valley. He missed his wife and children. He requested Guthelm to be allowed to return home to sort affairs out and see his family. Guthelm, in a rare moment of charity, did give his servant leave to return home for a period, to set his affairs in order. He returned to his homeland in high expectation, ordu escort hoping to find that all was well and his wife and children well looked after and prospering for the services he had been giving for his people and his King. He found marauders and local sherrifs had corrupted his villagers and tenants, screwing the villagers with no recourse to law and order. Some of his villains had been unjustly hung for treason. He was angry.

“When will we persuade the King to bring real justice?” complained Lord Nathor’s brother, who had stayed to manage his brother’s lands.

“The King will never bring justice,” said Lord Nathor angrily. “He does not have justice in him. I have served him for a long time and I know him and what he is capable of. He cares nothing for justice. He is the problem. We need a new King!”

Lord Nathor had decided it was time to talk to other nobles. He began to bring some others who were like minded together. Some surely thought it was indeed time to confront the King and began to discuss certain possibilities!

The Wizards : Aldareg and Eramzel

Wizard Eramzel learned that members of his family had been executed by King Guthelm in revenge for disputing their feudal dues, rents and taxes. The local people said the rents and dues were too much to bear, and when they refused to pay the additional amounts Guthelm had sent his soldiers to collect. Eramzel had come to his fellow wizard Aldareg to share his horror and despair.

“I know we have all done wrongs in the name of our King, and we have been rewarded handsomely for our work,” declared Eramzel, “but the King does not seem to know who his allies are. He sees enemies everywhere, and has them slaughtered for little reason. He wastes his own people. I tell you, when I heard this news of my family something has changed in me. I will not work for him any more.

“Aldareg, I would never have said anything against our King before, but he is not leading us well. He even slaughters his own people. My servant came to me from Grumandria, a refugee from our village, which has been given to other Knights. When he came to me he stammered and cried, and I could not reach the full sense out of him, so I made search spells, and read his mind, and saw for myself what he had seen. Screams of terror as the soldiers searched the village. They brought everyone out to the village green and raped the women while the men were beheaded cruelly, without any attempt at a swift end. I saw all my brothers slain while their wives were raped in the same place. Then the wives were sliced open and left to bleed. I was relieved that my parents are long since dead, that they should not have to witness this. The children? I do not know. Probably they were drafted into the hostels, the males to become soldiers for the King, the girls to become serving girls. Many bondsmen were turned into slaves that day, all because they could not produce enough for the King.

“None of the King’s officers ever thought, ‘here is the family of a Wizard, a loyal servant of the King. They did not consider my position in the Kingdom.”

Eramzel was well known for his own cruelty, but clearly Aldareg saw that lines had been crossed, by the King. Many wizards no longer had family, but clearly Eramzel was not one of those. He had kept his links with his original home, and had seen his people as being part of Guthelm’s Kingdom. He had fought for Guthelm, and Guthelm had fought for his people, to enrich and provide for them. So why did the King now turn against his own, and why so cruelly and ruthlessly? He thought of his brothers and sisters, his nephews and nieces, so cruelly butchered and so casually used. Eramzel had saved those cruelties for enemies of Grumandria, not for the people of Grumandria. How could he now serve a King who could so casually sanction the gruesome murders of his own people. Being a powerful wizard Eramzel had seen it for himself through the eyes of his terrified servant.

“I know you have expressed some dissatisfaction with the campaigns Guthelm has done recently and the methods he has been using, his mismanagement of this war in Shalirion. I thought I could talk to you without fear, about what has happened to my family,” said Eramzel.

“Have no fear Eramzel,” said Aldareg. “You are a fellow sorcerer. We have been colleagues for many years and I owe you a loyalty. In these times it is true our King has not been leading us well. He has grown soft, in that he will no longer fight his own battles, but gladly sends others to their deaths. He has shown a lack of judgement in recent campaigns. His justice has been unjust.

“Our atrocities at Bricas were fun, but pointless. We achieved nothing of tactical value, except to inspire fear. Our campaign up the Cromil valley showed we were not ready to venture there and we have succeeded not in conquering, but in provoking resistance.

“I hear your reports from our homeland and I hear many other stories of chaos and exploitation at home. We are like a nation tearing itself osmaniye escort apart, over lands, money, pillage, women. We have lost our way, just as Guthelm has lost his way. Perhaps we do need new leadership. I have thought it myself, I will admit.”

“You have lost no family, I presume Aldareg?’ asked Eramzel.

“Not by Guthelm. I was not popular in my family. I was like the black sheep of my family. My older brother was a bully to me and I must confess that I killed him when he drove me too far. I took his wife, but left her as I advanced in my sorcerous arts. My parents died in civil wars at the time when Guthelm conquered and reunited our land. I had good reason to be loyal to Guthelm for many years, but, as I say, the King has lost his way. He is no longer a suitable leader for Grumandria. He is not even a capable leader. When we took Cromilil I thought it a masterstroke, but it has proved a trap, and a wasted opportunity. Our army has been wasted, and we have created resistance amongst the Shalirionites. He has given much away to the Pelancirians.

“King Charlerion has been far more impressive. He is carving something out of Shalirion which will last. He is treating the Shalirionites honourably so they will serve him. His tactics will succeed in Shalirion better than Guthelm’s. His own homeland follows him loyally, whereas we of Grumandria eat each other and waste our own potential.”

“I take it that you are dissatisfied with our King, but who is there who could lead our land better?” asked Eramzel, relieved to find that his comrade no longer seemed to support the wayward King.

“I have been putting some thought to this recently. There are some Lords who would make a better king than Guthelm. Most of them would be less cruel, more diplomatic, and all would rule more effectively if they were sufficiently supported, but none of them would have legitimacy. They would represent their own possessions, but would have enemies in other parts of the Kingdom. There would inevitably be squabbles, fighting , civil war. The disunity would make us weaker still, unless these Lords could come together in alliance and choose a suitable one of their number to stand above them and create unity.”

“The normal way,” said Eramzel, “Is to pass the throne to the next in line; then there is legitimacy and acceptance. But none of Guthelm’s sons have any good qualities, and most of them have already been killed by their father.”

“The Shalirionites do not have lords in the way we do, but they do have an Empire with a succession. But the Empress does not rule. She is a figurehead. They have a council to rule in her name. The councillors are reputable citizens who are elected to represent towns, cities and country provinces. They elect leaders amongst themselves and may take turns in running the government of their Empire.”

As Aldareg spoke Eramzel was thinking that he could see admiration in Aldareg for the Shalirionite methods. “Well Aldareg I have to admit that ‘civilised’ and complex as the Shalirionite method of government may be it certainly has compromise built into it, which seems to be something we are unable to find in the selection of our own King and government.”

“Yes we know for sure that to select a new leader in Grumandria will involve civil war, whatever we do and whoever we support,” said Aldareg. “Eramzel, now that you approach me with your concerns and feelings, I will tell you that I have been approached by Pelancirian spies. You will breathe no word of this to the other wizards, unless they can be trusted to keep secrets, will you?”

“Of course not Aldareg. We speak in confidence — complete confidence. We have both already said many things to each other, which could result in accusations of treason, but we are honourable wizards and we are only speaking hypothetical words at this time. What do these spies say?”

“They bring offers and suggestions from King Charlerion. He too has had enough of King Guthelm’s leadership and is willing to talk to some of us about the possibility of replacing our King,” said Aldareg. Eramzel breathed a sigh of exclamation, perhaps of horror, of fear, or of determination. One thing was clear, their conversation had developed into something that neither wizard could ever forget. They both knew they trod a fine line in the brutal ‘politics’ of Grumandria. But they trusted each other as fellow wizards and there were probably others who might be trusted, but not all. Eramzel was betrayed and angry enough to do something about his wild King, and Aldareg had also gone far enough down this road now not to turn back. Whatever would transpire from this they would discuss it together and come to agreement upon what they chose to do.

“What did they suggest?” asked Eramzel.

“They said King Charlerion is wondering if there is a suitable Grumandrian candidate who has a good chance of having sufficient support and would be willing, one who would be able to be a good ally and partner to Pelancir, and would work with Pelancir to conquer Shalirion. He would be willing to assist someone who was suitable. Another alternative would be for King Charlerion to be promoted as a King for Grumandria, to rule the dual Kingdoms in peace and alliance. He would be fair to Grumandrian rights and traditions, as a way of creating a peaceful transition from Guthelm to prosperity and the rule of law, guaranteed by a strong King.

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The Wedding

The next week was pure chaos. Gone were the banquets and meetings of dignitaries, instead, there were wedding preparations, rehearsals, and learning the customs of the ceremony of Oliver’s world. The only comfort I could find was Oliver was working as hard as I was. Helena was having us do a hybrid wedding with the traditions from Earth blending with the traditions of their world. My nights were no better as my shock and excitement had been replace with fear and doubt. Lara slept next to my bed as I couldn’t sleep without at least two or more nightmares causing me to scream in my sleep. After the second time of her running into my room ready to kill, she slept next to me as to help wake me, and calm me down.

My nightmares were worse than ever. I saw Oliver leaving me at the alter for another woman, never coming, not being there, leaving me, sending me back to Earth alone, without Lara by my side. A few I witness him killed before our wedding and thus I was sent back to Earth heartbroken and alone. Exhaustion was getting the better of me, but I refused to let anyone know, as I was sure my nightmares were triggered by the stress of the wedding. However, Lara did go behind my back and had Iman give me something to help me sleep the night before the wedding that blocked the nightmares. I won’t lie, it might the one time I wasn’t angry with her for not listening to me.

The day of the wedding was even more stressful and chaotic than I could have ever imagined. It started with a fight with Ibarra and Lilja about my dress and Lara’s dress, which I won. Then it was a fight with the bathing. Why they want me to shave my sex I’ll never understand as I insisted on keeping my pubic hair. ‘I must remember to ask Oliver about this, or perhaps Helena one day.’ Once I was dressed, I let them apply my make-up, then I had them apply Lara’s make-up. Soon, we are dressed, painted, and as Ibarra was putting my veil and comb into my hair. Queen Helena walked in wearing a beautiful silver gown. I felt she had worn it to match my dress

“Oh Alexis, you look so beautiful.”

“Thanks,” I said smiling.

“And Lara,” said Helena, “your father would be so proud of you. I wish he were here to see you.”

“As do I my Queen,” said Lara.

“Ladies, may I have a few minutes alone with Alexis,” Helena asked.

“Of course My Queen,” said Lara escorting Ibarra and Lilja out of the room and closing the door.

Helena touched my veil and said, “Such a düzce escort strange tradition to cover your face as if they are trying to hide you.”

“Kind of is,” I said. “Part of it has to do with forcing the man to commit to his bride in the case of an arranged marriage, and part was because when a man wanted a bride, he’d kidnap her from a neighboring tribe and cover her head with a blanket so she couldn’t see where she was being taken. It’s also a symbol of modesty and purity. Oliver said to wear what would make me happy, and I chose this because it reminded me of the pictures of my mother when she married my father.”

“Then that’s what really matters,” she said. “But I have a gift for you. I remember you told me about the gifts new couples receive from family and friends and I wanted to give you something that was given to me when I married Oliver’s father.”

She handed me a small box that felt like crushed velvet. Inside was a necklace with a large blue stone in the center, it looked like a 10 carrot sapphire. “Oh Helena,” I gasped. “It’s beautiful!”

“All I ask is you wear it today,” she said.

“I can’t take this,” I said.

“You must,” she said. “The mother of the male child gives his life-mate a gift to show her support. It must be something that was once hers. Besides, you told me you lacked something blue and this will meet that requirement. This was mine, and I want you to have it.”

“Thank you,” I said smiling. “Can you help me put it on?”

“Of course,” she said and quickly stood up, grabbed the necklace, and put it around my neck.

The necklace was heavy. I felt it pulling on my neck and pressing on my chest. Helena kissed my cheek and pulled my veil over my face. “My son is so lucky to have someone like you, and now, to have you to become his wife, it’s a dream come true. Our people will be very lucky to have you as their Princess, and one day, as their Queen.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I hope I don’t disappoint everyone.”

“Nonsense, I’ve seen joy from so many just by you entering a room. Now come, it’s time for you to become a real princess,” she said and led me out of my room.

We walked down the hallways, Lara right behind us. Ibarra and Lilja had already gone to the ceremony. Soon, we were in our staging area, and Helena said, “I need to take my seat, but I’ve asked someone to stand in for your father and escort you down to Oliver. I know your own edirne escort father could do it, Oliver shared with me about your family. I hope you don’t mind, but when I mentioned to him about your traditions, he wanted to be there for you. I hope it’s all right.”

I smiled and said, “Thank you, who is it?”

“Me,” said a deep voice that was vaguely familiar.

I turned to see Ambassador Quez smiling at me. “Ambassador Quez?”

“I know I am not your father, nor am I from your world, but we do not get to be in our daughter’s ceremonies as they often do not have such formal ceremonies. Since I only have sons, three fine sons, and you have no father, maybe I could step in for him in on just this one occasion. That is, if you do not mind.”

“I do not mind at all,” I said fighting the urge to cry. “Thank you.”

“It is my honor,” said Ambassador Quez.

Queen Helena left and I took one of Ambassador Quez’s arms as we wait. Soon, Lara left us and we wait, alone. Maybe it was his presence but my levels of fear and panic were much lower than I anticipated.

“Prince Oliver is very lucky to have such a strong and beautiful creature to be his life-mate. Don’t let those who wish to bring you down, make you doubt yourself. Prince Oliver chose you above all others. One day, they will see what he sees.”

I smiled and said, “Thank you.”

The doors opened and the most beautiful music filled the air. Ambassador Quez and I slowly walked down the aisle. The room was filled with all kinds of creatures, some I’d met and some I hadn’t. I saw Lara smiling at me and then I saw Oliver. Even though my veil I could see his clothes. He was wearing what looked like a white tuxedo with silver trim. I was sure it was more of what he’d wear from his world, and yet it reminded me of what he would have worn in mine. His brown eyes shined at me and soon, we were standing in front of the guests. Ambassador Quez shook his hand, then placed my hand into his, and stepped away. Oliver raised my veil and gasped. I’m not exactly sure why, but I didn’t care. He led me forward and the ceremony began.

Our first kiss as husband and wife, Prince and Princess, was soft and gentle. Cheers echo from the room and I knew it was not a dream and I was now his wife. Just an hour ago, I was just plain old Alexis Perry, a schoolteacher from Earth. I stood here now as Princess Alexis, wife of Prince Oliver, and future queen elazığ escort of a world I didn’t even know existed two short years ago. We left the ceremony and entered another large room. I saw tables, plates of food, and what I would call a dance floor. After we ate a fine meal, Oliver led me to the dance floor. Soon, music filled the air, and I recognized it from my iPod. It was Journey’s “When You Love a Woman.” It was the same song that Mr. Jarvis sang the night Oliver came back and proposed to me. Oliver’s smile told me he wanted it clearly known this was how he felt about me. We moved across the floor gracefully. I felt his ring press against my fingers as he held my hand and we glided across the floor. The best part was when Oliver surprised everyone, especially me, by singing the last line of the song, “You see your world inside her eyes.”

I gasped and hugged him tightly as the room filled with cheers and applause. Later, Oliver was dancing with the Queen and I was dancing with Ambassador Quez. This was followed by more dancing and celebrations. It felt like the night would never end. I was sure this wasn’t part of their traditions, but mine. Yet here they were, Oliver’s family, Oliver’s friends, Oliver’s people, dancing and making me feel special, important, and loved. It was a feeling I’d only felt at the end of the school year when my students were leaving to move on to another grade, or another school, and I knew I wouldn’t see them again anytime soon, but they made sure I know how much they loved me. The difference was now I knew, they weren’t leaving, they were entering. Helena’s words about quieting those who gossiped about me echoed through my mind.

Suddenly, I knew, that this was what the vision of my mother and Mandy were trying to tell me. I was destined to be a wife, a mother, and one day, a queen. I knew my future with Oliver would be bright, and when the time comes, we will become King Oliver and Queen Alexis. Perhaps one day, Earth can join the federation that we are a part of, maybe not during my reign, but during the reign of our children, or grandchildren. I had finally found true happiness, with a man who traveled across the galaxy in search of that one, his life-mate, his true love, his soul mate, and found all of those in me. I wasn’t sure what I did to deserve such a wonderful man, but I really didn’t care, what I cared about his making him happy, and being the queen he believed I could be, one day. I knew with him by my side, I could be.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

I wish to thank all of you for sticking with me until the end. I know that in the future I won’t post such short chapters on this site. I hope you liked the tale of Alexis & Oliver. I may one day come back and post more including what happens with their children.

~NymphWriter

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Planetfall

Chapter 2

Marriage

Year 20 R (Republic Era), two weeks ago

Following her prophetic revelation, Lil spun around on her toes and stepped through the yawning deck hatch to the main deck above, leaving me alone in my reverie.

Lil’s mother, Gillian, formerly my step-mother, and previously my once-beloved Aunt Gill, the sister of my deceased mother, was a posthumous hero of the Glorious Revolution. You can read about her in the history readers, how ‘the Noble Duchess of Merciant, the former Archduchess of Burbary, was killed while trying to defend her Republican principles by the cowardly blade of the Imperialist oppressor, her very own step-son, the so-called Honorable Ivan of the Merciant dynasty of Como Prime’ 20 years ago.

Shit, I’ve seen the article for the first time very recently, a semi-gloss pressing was neatly cellulosed to my assigned sleep pod by the time I was ready to retire the very first night aboard this craft.

Lil wasn’t there, way back then on that fateful day on my home world; a time that we had known would come sooner rather than later. She was just 18 and away at college. I lost my father and what was left of my distant family and friends that day, as well as my freedom, when the whole planet capitulated within hours of the invasion. We had never stood a chance. We were all victims, Gillian, my father, myself and Lilian, too. But the two of us have survived to this point and both of us were necessary for this present mission, even if the likelihood was that only one of us actually had a future, but we had much in the way of trials to survive before anyone could give consideration to any individual’s future.

When I first saw Lil she was only 5 years old and I was 16; we were not particularly fond of each other at first. We looked very different, my mother and father were both white, as was her mother, my mother’s sister, but Lilian’s father was black. It may seem strange cousins rarely meeting, but the universe that was the Galactic Empire was much more complicated then. Noble families had been jockeying for betterment for hundreds of years, forming alliances, fuelling feuds between them, fielding petty dalliances and plotting intrigues from which only the true Machiavellians among that class derived any pleasure. The nobility were an ancient institution, set in their ways and many were too snobbish to even know what was going on outside their enclosed protectives. The galaxy was changing and the appetite for wholesale change was growing apace, but most nobles were too complacent to realise their time belonged in the past.

Of course, the rebels would have you believe that it was the ‘Poor’ who were the supposed driving force behind the revolution, that this 70-terranyear-long on-off campaign was for the benefit of the ordinary people of the vast population of mankind spread thin across the Milky Way. What rot! The poor people before the revolution are the same just as poor people under the new regime; the only change is that some of the middle rich are now ridiculously wealthy and the formerly wealthy are either dead or now, like me, forced to survive as part of the criminal underclass.

I did not learn much about politics at the Como Prime High School, although I was a home student at the time and had too many of the things that young men are occupied with at that age. It was my father the Duke who had an eye on the future and keeping the family’s future interests alive.

So, I was married on my 18th birthday just before leaving for the Imperial Naval Academy with Pynom, my zulon navigator, who I had been bonding with since I was about 3 terranyears old. I left behind my arranged bride, Velda, who was 15 and who I had only just met.

Arranged marriages were quite normal among our society then, for increasing wealth and bolstering trade or influence or both. We were connected with the Emperor’s family at great-grandfather level and Velda’s family were connected to the Crown Prince’s bride-to-be as second cousins, which strengthened our links with the Crown Prince, hopefully to become in time the next Emperor. I think my father was 33rd in line for enthronement then, now I believe I am fourth; Lil, descended from an archduke, is in primary position for Empress in her own right, should the monarchy ever be restored.

***

Imperial date 7932 E (Year Minus 9 R), 29 years ago

On our marriage, the ceremony held on my bride Velda’s home world, F’gargo Prime, one of seven inhabited and agriculturally productive but culturally and economically rather backward planets, in front of both our close families. My new bride was only 15, which was fine for her family and the law’s of their planet, but far too young for the laws on my own world. Once we were sealed together in the marriage bedchamber, and the titters of her silly bridal attendants faded away down the corridor, we faced each other, having barely exchanged a word together in the 48 terranhours we had been acquainted.

‘How bursa escort old are you, Velda?’ I had asked gently.

Her eyes were downcast, she looked so young and vulnerable.

‘I am fifteen terrans, my Lord. My period set in half a terran ago, so I am ripe enough to mate, if that is of concern to you, my husband.’

She looked up and I saw her bright blue eyes for the first time. I could sense both a little defiance and some pride at being ready to mate. No doubt she was prepared to busy herself raising our heirs who would strengthen the bonds between our families, mine the major house, hers the minor with most to gain from the new alliance. But there was also fear in her eyes, as she chewed her lower lip and fiddled with her hands, not prepared to exceed her authority by daring touching me first.

I smiled at her innocence. She looked such a sweet girl, so tiny that, despite her boasts of sexual maturity, she was still a child.

‘Velda, you are a lovely girl, but by the laws on my world, which is our world now, you are still a child.’

`But-‘

‘Velda, you are my bride and I am your husband, and you have promised in our wedding vows, the ones that you declare on your birth planet, to obey me as your husband, is that correct?’

‘Yes, husband, I will obey you. I am your wife, even though in your eyes I am still a child, yes?’

`Yes, you are still a child but you are my lawful wedded wife.’

I separated both her clenched-together hands and held them gently in mine, before bringing them to my lips and kissed them in turn. Her eyes grew large and even more fearsome of what she felt was to befall her, rejection or consummation, both held the same promises of pain and hurt.

‘Once again, are you still a virgin, my sweet wife?’

`Of course, I come to you as pure as winter snow, er, do you have snow there on your home world?’

‘Not where our palace stands, not on that latitude. In our hemisphere it is presently our winter and now is as cold as it ever gets there, but rarely cold enough for frost or snow. But we do have mountains, glorious mountains and our polar regions are winter wonderlands for all our people to vacation in and enjoy. But enough of our climate, sweet Velda. I too, am a virgin.’

She gasped, ‘But on our world … you are three terrans older than I?’

‘On your world, Velda, you mate soon after puberty, I have read up on your world.’

She nodded. ‘That is true, husband. Only on our world only the males read, we girls are not allowed to be as advanced either in manners or technology as the boys and men of our world, and even they must be well behind what you learn on your more advanced world. I wonder why I was chosen as one of your consorts when there are far richer worlds with plenty of noble and more beautiful maidens to spare?’

I smiled at her question. Velda was a young and uneducated girl, a second class citizen on her agricultural world, even though she was one of the many daughters of the low-ranking Lord of her world. Although her potential rise should her relative marry the Crown Prince, there was every chance that upon becoming Emperor, he would seek many alliances to protect his position through marriages with other nobles. In that case, Velda’s potential influence would reduce or cease.

‘Your system, and the systems around you that your father claims as his own, is close to the centre of the Galaxy. It is an area of interest to my family, and your mother is more closely related to the Emperor through the proposed marriage of his son, than my father, which dynastically is a possible advancement.’

‘Well, I hope that you are pleased with your latest wife, that I may bring you the pleasure you seek as well as improve the bloodline of your offspring. I … I am ready, my Lord, my husband for the rituals of my wedding night.’

‘We are not in any hurry to breed, Velda, so you can relax. As I said before, I am not yet blooded in the ways of the marital bed, and I am more ruled by the customs of my world, the world where we are intending to make our home and in this I am in complete agreement. We have not had concubines on my world, Velda, for several generations. On my home world and it’s dependencies, all men and women, Lords, Ladies and Common folk are deemed equal and we are paired one male to one female only. My father rules by dint of birthright, but also by a vote every five terranyears of every man and woman citizen in our world and those who have spread out around the galaxy; it is they that decide if our noble house continues to rule or not.’

‘Your people, men and women, vote for what exactly?’

“For maintaining the rule of the Lord and his privy chamber of citizen advisers drawn from all walks of life, who themselves have to stand every five years to continue in office. It helps to keep a Lord in check. Alternative forms of government are revised or new constitutions çanakkale escort drawn up every five years from suggestions put by citizens and our independent Judiciary examine and hone these into viable options that citizens can consider at the next election. We have done this for a terranmillenium and we remain a benign, happy and stable autocracy, with respect for all our citizens on our side and we strive to continue to earn the respect by our people on the other. Our planet and system has prosperity, security and peace for all, as sedition and malcontent do not have fertile ground to thrive.’

‘So all women have this right to vote, too? Will I?’

‘Of course, you will, Velda, but not until you are legally a woman on our world, which is eighteen terranyears.’

‘So, this extension of freedom to decide, does this extend to marriage and the possible breaking of a marriage?’

She looked up at me, square-shouldered and brave as she asked this question, but her hands involuntarily lifted away from my light grip, as if expecting a blow from me for her temerity.

‘Yes, Velda, that is your right, even now before you are of age. At any time that you want to leave me and our marriage, you can, simply by registering a claim for legal separation leading to divorce with the Judiciary. You will not be asked for a reason, only confirmation that you wish a separation. This triggers an offer to provide free counselling to the couple, both individually and jointly, to see if the marriage could be salvaged by one or both marriage partners altering whatever behaviour that most offends the other. If that reaches an unsatisfactorily sufficient agreement to try to work through the problems together, then notice of the divorce is published, pending agreement of the ex-couple over any transitional payments, the visitation rights to children, and division of property, etc.’

‘So I could be free at any time?’

‘Not quite, Velda. On my world, our marriage vows legally mean nothing, until we are at least eighteen, so our respective parents would still be our legal guardians; in the absence of your parents, my parents would be honour bound to stand in as your guardians charged with protecting you from any unlawful approach I might make. Until then, despite our marriage vows earlier, we can only be betrothed to be married. So in effect, we are engaged to be married, and can go through a short private civic ceremony on or after your eighteenth birthday, if you wish, or you could sue me at the age of eighteen for an annulment.’

‘An annulment? What is that?’

‘It is the ending of a marriage that never was a marriage, one that was never consummated.’

‘Like ours thus far?’

‘Like ours thus far. You have the right, as a free citizen of my world, to freedom from suffering the consequences of a marriage contract made while you were a minor. Your husband does not own you, in fact no-one can never own you on my world; those words of you “obeying me” that we agreed to in our wedding ceremony an hour ago are only your world’s wedding vows, they carry little or no weight on my world. You do not have to obey me, but I should expect you to support me, advise me, and, if our relationship is to survive a long lifetime, to learn to love me, as I will learn to love you. As we are a couple, it is important that we learn to live with each other, learn our ways and, in time learn to love each other and share that love with our babies, so they may be brought up in a family of mutual respect and love.’

‘I want babies, happy babies, my husband, and I am prepared to wait for them. And I want to love you and be loved by you, so I think I will spend every day doing that.’

‘I think that we must also make time for your schooling, Velda, otherwise everyone you meet in our circles will have that advantage over you. We are proud of our smart women, and I sense that you are bright and have already demonstrated an independence of spirit and that you are willing to question and learn. I want you to play a full role in the governance of our world and its possessions and outposts. We have access to the greatest exponents of teaching on my world, where every boy and girl learns to read, write, learn art and music and technology. I had toyed with taking you with me to the naval academy, but I think that you would be much better off back in school. I believe that you are smart and intelligent and will soon make up for lost time and missed opportunities.’

‘Naval academy? You are leaving and not taking me with you?’ She gasped and her tensions returned, she looked close to tears and even more like the little girl that she really was.

‘Not for almost a quarter terranyear, my wife. I will get to know you, as will my mother and sister, and you may bring as many members of your household or additional friends with you to converse with while I am gone.’

‘My family permits me to take just one, Sylvan, rize escort my personal maid.’

‘And are you close friends with this Sylvan?’

‘No, she is my father’s spy. I hate her.’

‘Then make a list of any friends you wish to bring with you and I will arrange passage and necessary offworld permits and, when we get to our world, we will keep Sylvan busy away from your personal staff and you will forever be out of the reach of your father, if you so wish.’

Velda was actually more than happy to delay our sexual relations, once we were sealed in the marriage bedchamber and free to discuss privately between us. She readily agreed that we would wait to consummate our marriage until I graduated from the Academy and she had reached this threshold of Como Prime’s legal age, and caught up with the education she would need to live in a modern and more equal society.

The following day we set off for our new home. I flew our craft, with Velda sitting in the co-pilot’s seat, with Pynom setting up a temporary mind link with her that went smoothly while Velda took charge of piloting the craft for at least half the journey, going in and out of several small wormholes. Her delight in trying something so new, so forbidden on her own world, where females were only considered for breeding new farming and labouring stock, was a joy to behold.

‘I would like to learn to fly on my own like you, Ivan, my Lord, so that I might be independent for the first time in my life. Would this be permitted for a wife of a Lord or an Honourable on your, on our world?’

‘It is permitted for any woman on our world to learn anything they which, especially if they show an aptitude for whatever that is. The younger you are when you start flying the better it is to learn to build a lifelong relationship with your zulon. However, you will be the first female in our family to express a wish to be a pilot, except for my cousin Lilian, who we hardly ever see.’

‘You have a female cousin?’ she asked, ‘I met your sister Sholana at the wedding.’

‘My cousin Lilian is a girl of only 8 terranyears and lives far away at a pre-Cadet school, learning how to meld with her zulon and become a pilot. I also went to a pre-Cadet school, one closer to our arm of the galaxy, so I came home more frequently. I doubt you will see Lil until the the spring on our world when the academic year ends, and soon after that I will depart for my three terranyears at Space Cadet School.’

‘I am not looking forward to that, my Ivan. Can I be permitted to come with you to learn to fly?’

‘No, my sweet, as is my duty, I have to serve five years in the Imperial Navy. As the wife of the heir to a Lord, you are not even permitted to join the Imperial Navy. In fact, Pynom tells me that, because of your marriage to me, it is best that no-one even knows you will be assigned the zulon, that Pynom will select for you. She is even now talking to her superiors to ask if your zulon can remain secret from other zulons too, at least until you qualify as a pilot. Whoever she selects for you will bond with you for life; it will be a close bond like I have with Pynom, she has been a part of my brain since I was three. Separation would be physically as painful as losing an arm or a leg, but the emotional cost will be like losing all your children in one go.’

‘It is a commitment and, as a wife of the ducal heir to a system, I am prepared to dedicate my life to any commitment that is appropriate to my new station in life.’

‘Remember you are not just a wife of an heir, but THE ONLY wife of an heir.’

‘And that is why I am so happy,’ she laughed.

I enjoyed her joy and did my utmost over the next few weeks to be comfortable settling her into my world that was so strange to her. She shared my bed as an affectionate companion, not yet a physical lover, but our friendship grew as a result of being so close whenever we had the chance.

I found myself just a few weeks later, however, light years from the home world I had known all my life, on a new adventure studying to be an officer pilot and making inroads into my five years’ short commission in the Imperial Galactic Navy as an officer cadet.

***

Imperial date 7933 E, 28 years ago.

All my new fellow cadets soon found themselves satisfying sexual diversions close to the Academy. Apparently a whole sex industry thrived in such an environment, filled with influential and energetic young men and very few women, many of whom were ultra wealthy rather than simply rich, and already seeking to start building their harems or strings of concubines.

I was the last of my class to hold out, finally succumbing on the last night of the first year, having discovered that, due to rebel activity in the area, all students were locked down and unable to go home for the holidays.

The F1 hybrids, the clone army, that the rebels must have been growing in secret for a quarter of a century, were launched and they changed the face of space war. Prior to this point there were never any projectile weapons used in space; the risk to the hulls was too great. The convention for thousands of years was to board through airlocks, like leaf or flower buds near the stalk of space vessels, and win control of the ship by hand-to-hand fighting with battleblades and daggers.

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Hello everyone. Just like the last interlude, this will be a collection of shorter stories telling what happened after the events of chapter 2 and introducing new characters. There will be no erotic content here whatsoever, so be warned. See you in Chapter 3 – Agrulla.

1. The assassin

Ulrise crouched behind a huge chunk of basalt, surveying her surroundings for hungry charus or a stealthy falmer hunter. Some time passed since she left the chitinous houses behind, along with their blind inhabitants, but one can never be too cautious. Hiding from falmers proved to be far harder than she expected, but the Pale Wraith got her nickname for a reason. Like an apparition, she slipped through their caves and was now entering a massive underground cavern, one of the many that formed the legendary underbelly of Skyrim – the Blackreach.

After she and Lana saw the unenviable fate of the Mistress, gathering her notes and other clues to their curse became the number one priority for the assassin. Without the looming threat of the angry employer punishing her for going rogue, Ulrise devised a plan.

The nine sealed potions she was carrying around finally were applied to good use. If they do not help locate the possessions of the Mistress, what was their purpose anyway? Maybe her curse amplified the effect of the potion, or perhaps she just became so good at detecting this magic, but on the edges of her mind, another source of it beckoned, leading her to a mountain ridge in the south of Skyrim.

Now finally looking at the gloomy, barely lit landscape she retrieved one of the remaining vials and gulped it down. Her biggest fear after traversing the dangerous tunnels was that falmers found the prize and now she had to turn back and assault their hive.

Fortunately, this proved not to be the case. The magic magnet beckoned, luring her deeper into the luminescent fungi forest. Out of her element here, Ulrise moved slowly and carefully, constantly checking her surroundings. She managed to spot a massive charus laying in ambush and gave it a wide berth. A lone falmer hunter followed her for some time, but Ulrise managed to lay an ambush of her own and soon the blind native got an extra hole in his throat.

Slowly crawling forward she passed the first cavern to find another enormous underground space, filled with plants and animals that never saw a ray of daylight. Not trusting the treacherous local illumination, she kept the night vision effect active at all times, spotting local predators hiding in deep shadows.

After hours of sneaking and two caves behind, the blond’s tenacity was finally rewarded.

“Wait a second, I recognize this area!” Indeed, this was the clearing that two cursed women have dream-walked not so long ago. In the real world, the clearing was every bit as memorable as in the dream, tekirdağ escort covered with a thick fluorescent fungal growth.

“Well, I remember the direction, better check if this is the place.” To her immense relief, soon the remains of the road became apparent, and in no time she stood in front of the hole in the ground, looking at descending marble stairway.

“I better be quick and very cautious, who knows what powers Sotha Sil’s guard can wield. I am not too fond of joining the Mistress on her tour in Oblivion.”

Down the stairway, the light of artificial Sun greeted her once more. She was delighted to see that local animals did not pilfer or trample Mistress’s backpack.

“Maybe bright light scared them? Does not matter, I better get her stuff and be on my way.”

Holding magic wards and shields ready, she approached the bag. She meticulously and very gently put the scrolls lying on the ground back into the backpack, took it, and stepped away from the circle of carved marble columns with a stone chest in the center.

“A wise choice.”

She almost jumped at these words and turned around to see the ghost of Sotha Sil standing between the columns. He continued in a flat tone:

“There are no daedric marks on you, so you can go free. This secret is not for mortal minds. If you value your realm as you know it, let the buried knowledge be forgotten.”

“That’s very generous of you, I’ll be sure to keep it to myself.” Ulrise moved backward, not letting her eyes off the ghost just in case. Reaching the stairway, she turned around and rushed above, leaving the eternal warden to his silent duty.

“Okay, I better study the scrolls with good lighting back on the surface. What else do we have here?”

One of the first things catching her attention was five characteristic vials of white liquid. “Ahh, so this is what I sensed. Thanks Gods the Mistress fancied having a fresh helping of magicka with her. Without this magic anchor, I would have trouble locating this cave.”

She threw away some stale food and stared in contemplation at the ornate key with the caption “Hjerim” on its handle.

“I think I know where this place is. Lana is going to love a trip to Windhelm.”

2. The ruler

The crowd that met the royal couple in Windhelm was far from what Elisif imagined. At home in Solitude the people will be cheering loudly and throwing flowers as their Jarl rode the streets.

Instead, they were greeted with stoic silence and raised banners. At first, Elisif tried to put on the fake smile, but soon dropped the pretense. Her purpose here was not to charm, but to serve as proof of Ulfric’s victory.

Generation of rivalry between Eastern and Western jarldoms finished with a resounding victory of the East, and now tokat escort the ruler of Solitude was paraded in the Eastern capital.

Tired of long faces, her eyes rested on the broad muscular back of her husband riding in front of her, but she furiously averted her gaze. He denied her the right to ride alongside him, instead leading the procession like a triumphant! Was there even a limit to this man’s arrogance?

For years she managed to maneuver politically and stay in her home city, restoring the damage done by Stormcloaks. At last, Solitude was mostly rebuilt, but this only brought an end to her relative freedom.

The formal reason for her arrival to the new capital of Skyrim was that the queen should be sitting alongside her king, and not only sitting. Ulfric has been paying her visits every year, and he became increasingly irritated by the lack of an heir, despite all his efforts.

The stony expression of an experienced politician like Elisif did not betray any emotions, but she remembered these nights with dread. Their martial bed was not that arm and cozy, figuratively speaking, and Ulfric put little effort to change that. He treated sex like a battle where only one can win, never letting her forget who is the dominant force, both in bed and in politics. His prize would be a child to cement his legacy and unite West and East Skyrim in one dynasty, and he was damn intent on getting it. Now, having her in the same palace day and night, Elisif feared his advances will become even more persistent.

Not all was doom and gloom though. Right next to her rode the only person she trusted – her loyal handmaid Alda. The stoic-looking woman rode nearby, shrugging off the stares of the crowd. Maybe some people were curious why the royal couple were not riding together, but instead, a plainly dressed black-haired woman was by the queen’s right side while the king was leading the parade. Elisif did not care for their questions or potential gossip. Come to think of it, if rumors start to go around, this might not be the worst thing. It will hurt Ulfric in his most vulnerable spot – his pride.

Yet again her gaze returned to the king, and now she stared at him as if trying to burn the man with her eyes. “I must send Alda to find an alchemist who does not ask questions to make some more pregnancy-preventing potions. Local brothels should know the suppliers.

“I will be cursed before I carry a child from the man who destroyed my city and killed the rightful king.”

3. The warrior

The Whiterun city guards stepped aside respectfully, letting the hulking orsimer frame in the gates. Her association with Companions allowed Agrulla to enter the city without the search and interrogation. This stuff was annoying, a callback to the stronghold she trabzon escort was born in with their strict rules and procedures of who may enter or leave. A smirk appeared on her lips at the thought that if she followed these rules, she would never even discover the contrast between an orc stronghold and Whiterun.

In high spirits, Agrulla walked the streets with her elven comrade in tow. During several days of their travel from the wilderness of Western Skyrim to Whiterun, she learned a lot of facts about local flora and fauna, all against her will. But the only way to shut up Aeranel was to punch him and that would be low.

But with their journey coming to an end, she already anticipated a welcoming feast in Jorrvaskr hall. Having a company other than an annoying elf would be nice too. Without losing time to saunter in the city streets, the pair went straight up to the Companion’s house. She salivated at the thought of sweet mead and roast meat that undoubtedly awaited them.

“Ahh, the fresh blood!” the wide welcoming grin of Vilkas was bright as the brickwall of a nord welcomed them with opened arms.

“Aela and the others have returned some days ago, you are the last hunting party. Good to know we have not lost anyone to this damn monster cave. Have your hunt has been fruitful?”

The orc woman returned his wide smile as they locked hands in a firm handshake. “We have found several leftovers, and made sure they will not assault anyone.” By human standards, Vilkas was a hulk, but Agrulla still had an inch of height on him and her muscles were equally impressive. Their embrace might have made weaker ribs crack.

“And recovered some gear!” Aeranel showed the arrowheads found among bones.

“Great job all around!” nodded the experienced Companion in approval. “Have you already been to the Kynareth temple? Some of the returned warriors had some strange magic in them. Priestess Danica told it is connected to this dust from monsters.”

“Hmm,” the orc woman massaged her chin. During the assault, some of her brothers and sisters-in-arms touched the strange pink dust that bled from the cursed monsters, but she was lucky enough to avoid it.

The choice between celebrating their victory in a drunken feast and sitting in the temple while priests fumigate her with grass while howling incantations was clear for Agrulla.

“None of the werewolves or trolls bled on me. I might check on them later, just in case. Now, to the important matter – do you have a roasted boar or a bull today?”

Vilkas nodded, gesturing them to enter the drinking hall with a smile:

“Why do not you see for yourselves? Our cooks outdone themselves today!”

The rest of the day passed as a carnival of drunken revelry for Agrulla. Going to sleep, she remembered arm-wrestling contest with Vilkas. Or was it Farkas? Another distinct memory was the whole crew singing old Nord battle songs and Aela hitting targets with throwing knives even after a jug of wine.

As the content orsimer woman drifted to dreamland, her pussy twitched slightly. Even while sleeping, several pink particles that got directly into her bloodstream from the arrow scratch did their cursed job.

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Chapter 3: Alicia, Billy, Woof and Rules for Middles

Alicia had started working out with her friends. Gym memberships shot up 47% in two weeks. It got so overcrowded the girls would sometimes wait 30 minutes or more for the treadmill or the elliptical. I made sure she didn’t overdue it, part of the team. Some of Alicia’s loveliness is a little hint of baby fat in her cheeks, her breasts and even her belly. It emphasized her youth, that she was in a sense even I could appreciate, unplucked. We didn’t want to lose that.

She said losing three pounds wasn’t going to hurt, if she could get them off her waistline and not her boobs or butt. And it worked.

Alicia is a little taller than most of the other girls around. She’s 5’7″ in a field of mostly 5’4″ and 5’5″ girls. We figured the extra height might be an advantage since the Pharaohs tended to be in the 6’2″ range. I myself am fully 6 feet tall and know from experience that tiny, tiny girls can look ridiculous next to a man of size.

Not to brag, and she’d never say it herself, but Alicia is perfectly proportioned. Excellent tits, a very healthy handful of perky B cup, perfectly shaped and perfectly symmetrical, with just the right size pink nipples. So soft and so firm at the same time. Nipples that electrify easily and often. A tiny waist even with the baby fat. An ass that drives guys up the wall. (You should have seen them in the DR.) Hair above and below that is fine and thick, and soft and golden. She trims her cunt to set off the lovely rubbery lips and moist coral interior.

You’d have to see her as I had. Naked, post-shower, slightly bent at the waist, hair hanging forward for drying. Gorgeous tits bouncing as she toweled out water. Lovely. An even better view from behind. Her slender thighs and pussy making a gorgeous heart shaped keyhole, pretty cunt lips hanging to form the scalloped top. Nearly stops my heart. Every time.

Alicia was born with this natural, unassuming and wholesome good girl sexuality. Every girl wanted her body and face. Every guy was ga-ga over her. But she was mine.

And pretty, oh so pretty. A longish slender and graceful neck contained a surprisingly accommodating throat, dazzling blue-green eyes, a tiny nose and a wide generous inviting mouth. Wonderfully plump red lips, dazzling and perfect white teeth, a lively and flexible tongue. A cute chin. A dimple. The nicest smile I’d ever seen.

She said that Danielle and Elizabeth were prettier, a claim I would respectfully dispute. Danielle was incredibly pretty but had weak cheekbones; Elizabeth’s eyes were not as vibrant. The other girls? Sam’s tits were cute but not exactly perky. Janie’s ass was a bit flat. Briana had a narrow mouth. Only Alicia was perfect.

She was right though about Elizabeth’s tits — a very bouncy, healthy and upturned C cup. If you like that sort of thing.

But what would he like? What would Pharaoh be like? What would he prefer? Answer: No way of knowing. Before that, what would the judges on White Girl Pride Day like? They could pick zero, one, two or all three girls. What if Alicia, Danielle and Elizabeth were selected? Or even Sam, who was more ladylike, in place of Danielle?

That one was easy. I, along with everyone else in town, would go stark raving mad with joy.

========================================

In the fourth week Billy stormed the Mayor’s office drunk, trying to deliver a petition for exemption of his pretty (but about to be 22 year old) wife Lisa. Security had him on the floor and cuffed before he got within 20 yards off the Mayor’s office. The judge the next day threw the book at Billy. Best case we’d see him again in 6 months. Or maybe never.

We all thought it was a shame. Billy was a good guy, a good husband and a good friend. Still, we knew how stupid it was. Drinking is more or less tolerated in moderation, but more than that is definitely frowned on for middles. Plus, the Mayor didn’t even have the power to change Pharaoh rules. That was up to the producers of the show, and ultimately to the government. The upper classes were not going to change the rules for one white girl.

You thought about it, what if they did change the rule to let 22 year old girls compete? What would happen then? I’ll tell you. A bunch of 23 year old girls and their husbands would be going nuts about how unfair that was. It would never end.

But still, we’ll all miss old Billy.

===========================================

As the weeks went by Alicia more and more wanted to experiment aggressively with new forms of lovemaking. At first erzurum escort I was like, Yeah! With a wife as pretty as Alicia what husband wouldn’t?

But then sometimes I was secretly selfish and resented the fact we did all this just for Pharaoh. And not even for him, but just some chance of him. What was the chance of getting to the program? What was the chance of winning on the program? Maybe 1 in 100, or 1 in 10,000, who knew? All this, not to make us happy but on a small chance of making him happy. It’s not I didn’t want to be confident too, but sometimes it pays to be realistic.

I tried to be a good husband even then. I had a good talk with myself about this kind of negativity. It hit me hard. I was ashamed and confessed my selfish feelings to Alicia. She was gentle and kind as we talked it out. She understood. She really did. We used it as a learning experience. She taught me a lot about unconscious racism and bias. Resenting black uppers, and especially a Pharaoh, was just racist, low class white anger. She called me out on it. I was practically crying cause I knew she was right. I had always thought I was such a good man, prided myself on it. Now I had to face the music. I apologized to her. She got some books and online lessons for me. I studied them and gave her another, more articulate, apology. We visited with Pastor Ninkovitch. He was gentle too and taught me and prayed with me. I apologized again.

Alicia forgave me. They never reported me to Security. What can I say? The Pastor is a great man; Alicia is my dream girl.

See I always knew how to deal with reality, one of my strengths. I opened my eyes after my confession and the reality was pretty darned good. Not just like fucking every single night good, but now experimenting with new fucks good. In those first three weeks we missed only four nights of lovemaking, two nights when Alicia had to go sit with Lisa, who was not doing well, and two for her period.

One night four weeks before WGPD I came from the shower ready to make love. There she was on the bed. Nude. On all fours. Her cunt pointed back towards me in the doorway. Holy…! I never.

I paused. Shocked. Flummoxed. In the seconds before she knew I was watching, my cock took flight. He was hard as a hickory stick and my balls were churning heavy cream.

She turned her head back to me. “Try it honey. Just for my training. I won’t make you, but don’t make me ask.”

“But holy jimmy cricket honey. Is this right? Is it allowed?” Even though I was getting over my racism, I still had a duty to be respectful and cautious. For both our sakes..

Her eyes went through me. I knew the look. Hadn’t she just told me not to ask?

So I climbed up behind her on the bed, studied up on how to approach this. These newfangled ways kind of throw me for a loop sometimes. I had to be careful of nosebleeds. But the dick won out. Her ass was magnificent in this position. But her knees were too close together or something. I touched her thigh and said, “Ummm…” She understood and her knees slid wider. But then her cunt was down too low for me. By instinct my hand went to the small of her back and I depressed gently. I said, “If you…” She understood and curved her back, dropped her shoulders to the sheets and buried her head in the pillow. Which popped her good place up higher. Right in line.

So then I fucked her and oh goodness but it was nice. See, the dick goes in horizontally and seems like it is sliding in deeper and deeper forever, a dick expanding and throbbing into a lovely, fragrant, clenching infinity, into places of which I had no prior knowledge. My hands rode softly on her hips. Her cunt grabbed hold of me and hot, wet, girl juices splashed from the walls, bathing me, suckling me, teasing me. Alicia pushed back on me hard and I bottomed out. I fucked and my surging balls slapped her undercarriage fast and hard. Wonderful. My body fizzed all over with pleasure, my nuts were singing; I screamed out “Alicia!” and after three strokes I came in her pussy quite a lot.

I checked and my nose was fine.

We rested, her breathing heavy but still soft and sweetly feminine. After a few minutes Alicia giggled and said, “It has a name.”

“What does?” I was somewhat out of it.

“What we just did. It has a name.”

“What?”

“Woof-woof.”

“Woof-woof?”

“Yeah, woof-woof, like a dog.”

“A dog?”

“Yeah.”

“Woof-woof? Says who?”

“Says Briana.”

“How’s she know?”

“Some book.”

I stopped and pondered. eskişehir escort Could this be right? Could Briana really know things like this? What book? Anyone would be curious about that. I’m not aware of any books suitable for middles like us, like Briana too, that would have this sort of thing. Then I remembered her husband Draymond and I was like, “Oh.” An upper.

I began to feel guilty. Even if Draymond had right to share information like this with his wife (which is not my business), there was no way it was appropriate for Bri to share it with Alicia or for Alicia to share it with me. It was so different, so weird. So inappropriate. Even if my wife was in training. Who had ever dreamt of making love this way where you don’t even see the girl’s face? Would my betters have approved?

“She says there are others too.”

“Other what?”

“Other things like the one we just did.”

“Goodness!” I tried to imagine. Found I could not. “Do they have names too?”

“Yeah.”

I paused again, reached for her hand and gave a little squeeze. Maybe it wasn’t right, maybe the uppers would kill me if they found out, but I needed to know. Badly.

Her tits seem to hold their shape even when she’s flat on her back. Which is really something. The guys in the DR couldn’t believe it either.

She needed more coaxing, so I just said, “Names like…?”

“Orange Julius.”

“Orange Ju…”

“Crab Rangoon.”

“Cr…” Trying to memorize as she went.

“The Eiffel Tower, Ferry Cross the Mersey, the Mongoose, Sweet Tea, Booya!, Aphrodite Walks Into A Bar. A few more.”

“Wow…I mean like wowowowowowo.” Made her giggle a lot, which is so nice. “She told you?”

“Yeah.”

I asked, “Do we try those too?”

“I hope so, some of them. For training.”

“When?’

Alicia looked down at my shrunken little weiner. He had just visited weiner heaven but now he was a little beat. Bet yours would have been beat too.

Alicia giggled and said, “Why don’t you rest now and let Woodrow do the work.”

“Huh?”

She was already stretched across the bed — lovely, lovely, lovely! ass, torso, breasts, face, hair, lovely! even a glimpse of the wet, matted soft hairs on her cunt, lovely!— and reached in the drawer for the dildo. She brought it out, presented it to me, and said, “Meet Woodrow. Another thing with a new name.”

Alicia lay back on the pillow, spread her legs and motioned me down. I gulped once. I got to work.

===========================

Today when I walked past the office for the Assistant Regional Sales Manager on my way to the copy machine, I saw Jason Blue in there. He was holding a tape measure. Jason motioned me in saying, “Take this end.” He pointed, then, “Yeah, down in that corner, on the floor, hold it flat.”

Jason unspooled the tape to the other corner and said, “18.5, not bad.”

He had me go to the next corner and we measured the second dimension. “14 and three quarters and a bit more. Good.”

He wound the tape back in and said, “Thanks for the help Jeff.” He seemed to forget I was there and walked around the empty room, motioning and framing with his fingers and hands, trying to visualize. Then he noticed me again and ordered me out with his eyes and a little shake of the head.

After that I tried not to bother myself about it any more.

=========================

We are a pretty conservative society, and we like it that way. The way our parents were, the way their parents were before them. All the way back to The New Founding in 2147. Makes things simple, fair, easy to follow for everyone. Everyone knows his place, knows what the rules are for staying out of trouble.

I mean our rules, the middle, because there have to be to be different rules for different levels. Common sense tells you that. For us in the middle, maybe not the uppers and the upper uppers, and maybe not the low down dirty classes, for us it is pretty clear what is right and what is not right. We like to stick to that.

In terms of sex the rules have always been very clear. There is (of course) no premarital intercourse or, as we called it, fucking. In fact there is no premarital anything beyond some friendly light kissing and maybe a little touch near but not on a girl’s breast. We value our women and value their purity. Our own as well. It makes it better for everyone.

Better like it had been for Alicia and me on our first night together. It was our honeymoon in that little cottage in the Poconos. She was a just turned 19 gaziantep escort virgin, I was a 24 year old who had made one horrible mistake in college with a girl I never should have gone near. It was a fantastic honeymoon. Way better than if we’d done something stupid before the wedding.

I had already confessed the slut to Alicia and to her parents. Amazingly, she forgave me then too, told me she could love me even with a stain on my soul. She is my dream girl. Of course, like any suitor, I was scared poopless of her Dad’s reaction. Alicia, sweetie that she is, had already gone to bat for me, pleading with him to go easy on me, but I was still scared poopless.

He quizzed me closely that day, just two guys sitting across from one another in the den. The girls were in the kitchen stringing popcorn.

It started off well enough. We discussed the history of our town librarians, which ones were nice or not nice, and how a few had actually been pretty good looking. One or two of them were even bright.

“What’d she look like?” he asked.

“Which one Dad?”

“The slut.”

“Oh, her. Ummm…I can’t say. I barely remember it. I made a mistake, you know, it was Pharaoh-Wednesday, after I mean, and we both got a little overexcited I guess.”

“No excuses son, no blaming Pharaoh for your own weakness.”

“No Dad, you’re right. I know you are.”

“But you remember fucking?”

“Yes sir. I mean yes, Dad.”

Dad was a stickler for the old ways and insisted on my calling him either Dad or Sir. Was fine but felt a little awkward, the Dad part I mean.

“What about her tits? What were they like?”

“I…I don’t… well pretty big ones I think.”

“hmmmm, figures,” he said with a disapproving grimace.

“Yes sir. I mean yes, Dad,” cause he was right. I had been attracted to her tits.

“Bigger than Mom’s?”

“Sir?”

“Mom. Get with it. Bigger than Mrs. P’s?”

This was a tricky one. In the end I stuttered out a “aah…I don’t think so Dad.”

I’d said the right thing. He smiled for the first time.

“And now you’re going to be fucking my little girl?”

“Only with your permission, Dad. And Mrs. P’s too, sir.”

Alicia was almost 19 when we got engaged. She wouldn’t strictly need parental permission to marry, but no way was I going there.

“Hmmm. My permission you mean.”

“Yes Dad.”

So it was settled. In the end he didn’t report me to Security. He just made sure I took a bunch of shots and visited with Pastor Ninkovitch on it. Alicia had fixed it for me. She is my dream girl.

================================

The upper classes allow themselves somewhat more license than we get. Especially when the girl is of a lower class, or if she’s drunk or leads the man on in some way. Or let’s say there’s a festival or holiday or cultural event, then of course they want to blow off a little steam with a girl. It makes sense what with all the pressures they face in terms of keeping society and the economy going and keeping us all fed and happy and employed and under control. My class still respectfully and quietly disapproves, but we also understand and accept it.

There is a little thing called Patriotism after all. Patriotism and Respect for our Betters, and for Doing as we are Told. We understand our Obligations.

See, rich people are smart and dumb people are poor. Which means that smart people get rich and poor people stay dumb and lazy. Hell, if I’d worked harder (much harder) or I’d been smarter (much, much smarter) then I have no doubt I would be one of the uppers myself. There are white uppers, even a few white upper uppers. So our betters getting a break on holidays is pretty much OK with us.

Take Sir Reginald. Reginald Quigley had been an undistinguished middle till he created the Black Pharaoh program. What happens? Only gets elevated to upper, gets knighted, gets rich, becomes one of the most famous people in the world. That’s what. Smart man. A man to be respected, even if he is white.

Sir Reggie, as he was affectionately known, was reputed to have fucked over 300 of the girls vying for Pharaoh’s bed. Not the winners of course, they were Pharaoh’s property, but the most beautiful rejects. Not one of the girls ever spoke of it, they were that loyal to him. But his constant companion, Freddie Wiggle-Bottom, vouched for it and would regularly update the number to members of the press over gin and tonics poolside at Sir Reggie’s mansion.

That, my friends, is what accomplishment looks like. And he never rested on his laurels, went on to invent the toothpick and the upside down bra. How’s that for hard work and smarts?

Do the uppers deserve some breaks with our girls? I think so. I really do. Not that it matters what I think. It’s reality.

Like it will be reality on White Girl Pride Day and like it is every Wednesday night for the Pharaoh. Something for the entire nation to rally around.

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PRESTIRA

Yavara was in good spirits, having gotten the message this morning that both Brock and Elena were alive and well. From what little Zander had risked putting on the parchment, I gathered that he’d set plans in motion for finding a Froktora. I liked Brock, truly I did, and the Terdini were renowned for their strength and size, but they were just too small a clan. The Protaki were the largest tribe in The Pines, but even they paled in numbers compared to the hordes of The Tundra. The ten tribes of The Tundra (aptly named ‘The Ten’ since orcs are so fucking creative) would be outraged if anyone other than one of their own was named Froktora. Even then, their hatred for each other ran so deeply that simply naming one of them a candidate might spark a war. Still, that was better than outright rejection, which is what I feared Yavara would get if she presented Brock to the Ten. A war could be ended swiftly with a few key deaths, but political embarrassment lasted a lifetime. Yavara had shown some political acumen when she’d spun the rescue mission, but she still had a lot to learn. Her fierce loyalty to her friends was her greatest weakness, and would be used against her. So, I categorized her friends as ‘assets’ and ‘liabilities,’ weighing the benefits and risks each brought. Zander was certainly an asset, and I believed myself to be one as well. Brock wasn’t yet a liability, but he was bordering on it, and Elena… Elena Straltaira was a ticking time bomb. If there was any benefit to the wayward ranger, it was to keep Yavara centered. For I’d seen a shadow of what Yavara could be without her moral anchor, and it was terrifying.

I shook myself from my contemplation, and focused on the task at hand. None of this would matter if we couldn’t secure a loan from King Dreus, and to do that, Yavara would once again have to rely on her raw political acumen. As the high sun baked the stench of dead fish into the air, I coached her to the best of my ability.

“We need to be careful with our words, Yavara. He will want to be treated as above you. You cannot allow that to happen, but you cannot disrespect him, or he will be compelled to save face.” I explained to Yavara as we walked along the docks. The hood of my white robe covered my face, the symbol of the Holy Mother stitched across it. Yavara wore a similar priestess outfit, the hood covering the top half of her own face. Even savage gangs respected the work of the church, and attacking priestesses would be a violation of street law. We traveled incognito for two reasons: one, because even though we were in the docks, where there was no shortage of Alkandran loyalists, Yavara’s safety was still not guaranteed; and two, because of optics. Now that the world knew who Yavara was, her reputation had to be nurtured like an ailing infant. If everyone knew that Yavara had gone to Drake Titus to ask for aid, it would make her look weak, and though Yavara’s subjects could overlook many undesirable traits in their Dark Queen, weakness was not one of them.

“So, I should show him respect, but use subtle language that tells him I’m better than he is, without disrespecting him completely?” Yavara asked, “I’m confused; this man is the leader of the most notorious gang in the city, and I’m supposed to talk down to him in his own court?”

“Don’t talk down.” I explained, “Just use prefixes of an equal, but make sure he calls you ‘queen.'”

“I suppose it won’t be as easy as sucking his cock and promising him money.” Yavara grumbled.

I snorted. “No, this situation calls for more tact than that. Just think your questions to me if you have any, I’ll guide you through it.”

“Do you know Titus?”

“I was close with his blood-mother, Gloria Titus, for a time.” I said as we rounded the corner, “She went across the sea to Hektinar to chase heathen idols, as she was one to do. That’s the place there.” We came to a large loading door, with a smaller pedestrian door embedded into it. I knocked three times. The window opened, and two black eyes stared down at us.

“What business do you have here, sisters?” The orc asked.

“We are here to speak with Drake Titus.” I responded.

“What business do two sisters of the church have with Mister Titus?” He growled.

“His business, and not yours.” I replied. The window slammed shut in our faces.

“Nice one.” Yavara hissed at me.

“Just wait. Titus runs a smuggling operation beneath the city temple. He’ll be curious as to why we are here.”

The window opened again, and the orc spoke. “Titus will see you now.”

I smirked at Yavara.

You smug little bitch. She telepathically replied.

We stepped through the door, and our ears were immediately assaulted by loud thumping music. Flash pots blasted the dark room with a strobe light, making it seem like the dancing crowd was shifting rapidly. Cages hung from the ceiling where naked dancers of different races gyrated to the music, their sweat zonguldak escort dripping from their bodies, flinging from their tossed hair. People were fucking in the middle of the dance floor with wild abandon, their movements synchronized with the beat, their faces that of animals. The orc guided us along the perimeter, parting the crowd as he did.

This place is fucking amazing! Yavara’s shrill voice echoed in my head.

It makes our little spectacle at the bar look like child’s play. I mused.

The orc guided us to a door on the side of the room with “V.I.P.” crudely painted over it. “Open your robes and put your hands in the air.” He commanded.

Yavara and I complied, and endured his thorough and dispassionate search of us. Our hoods stayed over our faces, and thankfully the orc didn’t deign to blasphemy by making us remove them.

“You may speak with Titus, sisters.” The orc opened the door and beckoned us through before slamming it behind us. My eyes were greeted with yet another scene of depravity. Masses of pale flesh writhed together like some pulsating beast of sex, it’s many moans and screams forming a discordant drone. The room was poorly lit by torches burning red flame, giving the orgy a hellish glow. Every member of the orgy had skin as white as snow, hair as black as jet, crimson irises baring feline pupils, and blood-red lips parting to expose white fangs. If there was a benefit to vampirism, it was eternal youth and beauty, for all the women were statuesque and voluptuous, and all the men were tall, lean and strong. Their gothic features were sensually predatory, and focused on the smell of fresh blood.

“Sisters!” A man called jovially from the center of it all. I didn’t have to guess that it was Drake Titus; the extravagant chair, the adornment of jewels, and the two women worshipfully licking his cock were all the evidence I needed. Gloria would be proud of her blood baby. Taking a steeling breath, I stepped through the debauchery, watching errant limbs retreat before my path. I wasn’t an extremely adept telekinetic, but I could blow the roof off a building, and expose everyone to the high noon sun. I’d picked the time of our arrival purposefully. I stopped ten paces from Titus, wary of the hungry eyes and sharp fangs that lurked at my periphery.

“Remove your hoods, sisters.” Titus commanded, “I need to see the eyes of the people I’m dealing with.”

Yavara glanced at me, and I nodded. Together, we drew back our hoods. There were no gasps to accompany the reveal of the Dark Queen, for vampires were not prone to such human exclamations. There was only a sudden muting of the revelry, making the room quiet enough to hear a pin drop. For her part, Yavara didn’t seem the least bit out of sorts. She held her head high and proud, unflinching before Drake Titus.

“The Dark Queen herself comes to my home!” Titus exclaimed, “I wished you had warned me in advance, Your Highness; I would have made myself presentable.”

“You’re fine as you are.” Yavara said wryly, her eyes navigating the length of his cock. Titus smiled back at Yavara, though I could see he was simply looking at her neck.

“And what brings royalty into my humble chambers?” Titus asked.

“We have a proposition for you, Titus.” I said to him, not liking the gleam in his red eyes. They turned to me, but the wanting glint did not diminish.

“Prestira Rasloraca. My mother always had some choice words for you.” He cocked his head, his smile sliding to a crooked smirk, “What kind of a proposition does the infamous miser of Ardeni have in mind?”

“It’s my proposition, Titus,” Yavara said, “I ask that you join me in Alkandra.”

“Why would I do that?” Titus laughed, “I have riches beyond my imagination, I have fresh blood every night, and I have new daughters every week.” Titus slapped the asses of the two women servicing him. “Ivanka and Tiffany, say ‘hi’ to Queen Yavara Alkandi and Prestira Rasloraca.”

“Hi Yavara, hi Prestira.” They said seductively, staring unabashedly at our throats. While I was nearly consumed with the compulsion to duck my chin, Yavara dared to tilt hers slightly upward. She thought this was fun.

“Queen Yavara.” Yavara corrected, smiling back at the women.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Titus laughed as he brought his daughter’s heads back down, “They were lowborn girls once, and were never taught proper etiquette. Biting privileged sons and daughter lends unwanted complications, you understand. Now, your proposition sounds like a demand of fealty, and in case you haven’t noticed,” Titus gestured around himself, “I quite like being the boss. What would I have to gain from bowing to you?”

“Wealth, land and titles in Alkandra.” Yavara replied.

“I have wealth, I have land, and I have no use for titles.” Titus’s grin broadened, fangs shining sharply in the red light, “Do you know what I want, fethiye escort Queen Yavara?”

“What?” she asked.

“You.”

“That is out of the question!” I yelled, clenching my fist, feeling the air around me, the wooden beams of the ceiling rafters, the joints that held wall to roof. A nearly imperceptible creak sounded from above, but Titus heard it. He inclined his head upward, then looked back at me, undaunted.

“That’s my condition.” He said, shrugging his shoulders, “I will only throw my wealth and arms behind your banners if I know that my people will be well represented. Otherwise I’m risking a lot for the unknown, and I don’t put money behind bad investments. If Queen Yavara shares my blood, I will know that her interests and mine are aligned.”

“That is not a condition we can accept. I’m sorry for wasting your time.” I said, turning to leave. Yavara put a hand on my shoulder.

“What’s it like, Titus?” She asked, “Vampirism, what does it feel like? Speak honestly.”

“It’s not terrible. If you have a reliable blood supply, you hardly notice the cravings. You don’t need to sleep, you have limitless energy, and your senses are heightened. Not to mention eternal youth and beauty, though, I see you’re both doing fine in that department.” Titus said with considerable charm. If we were maidens, we might’ve blushed.

Yavara, don’t even think about it. I said into her mind.

We need him, Prestira. There’s no other way.

You would sacrifice everything if you did this. You will never get to walk in daylight again, and the pleasures of life will fade in the ever-present need to feed. Eventually, your entire being will be consumed by it. Death is preferable.

“I thank you for the offer, but it is not one I can accept.” Yavara said.

“I can make concessions.” Titus smiled congenially.

“Like?” asked Yavara.

“I’ll take Prestira instead.”

“Me?!” I nearly sputtered.

“You have the ear of the queen, and you’re one of the most powerful beings on earth. I would concede you as a viable alternative.”

You’re right, let’s get out of here. Yavara said, “I’m sorry, Titus, but you ask too much.”

“I can make one last concession!” Titus yelled as we turned.

“You seem to be in quite the generous mood today.” I smirked over my shoulder, “What is your last concession?”

“Day-walkers. I make both of you day-walkers, but it has to be both of you.”

“I am unaware of what a ‘day-walker’ is, Titus, please explain.” Yavara requested.

“A day-walker,” Titus answered, twisting his lips, “is a half-measure. You retain none of the benefits of vampirism, but as long as you stay in your natural form you also avoid the… side effects as well. The name is somewhat of a derogatory term, but I’m sure you’ll add some prestige to it.” Titus turned to his left and yelled, “Brutus, come over here!” From across the room, a homely man of middle years lumbered out from behind the bar, setting down a glass he’d been polishing. “Brutus is a day-walker,” Titus explained, “we needed someone who could go on booze-runs during the daytime.”

The balding little man stepped clumsily through the orgy, occasionally tripping over limbs that had been cruelly set in his path. He kept his eyes downcast, as well he should, for the beautiful beasts around him stared with unmasked contempt. I had a feeling that Brutus had once been given the same choice Yavara had, and he’d chosen poorly in the vampires’ eyes. He stopped before us, not daring to raise his head, his shoulders sloped in decades of defeat.

“This is a day-walker?” Yavara asked, ducking to connect eyes with Brutus. He looked away, and I felt a pang of pity for him.

“Pathetic, isn’t it?” Titus sighed.

Yavara took Brutus’s head into her hands, and gently forced his gaze to hers. “Brutus,” she said with unfettered kindness, “can you show me what it means to be a day-walker?”

Brutus glanced fearfully at his master.

Titus rolled his eyes. “Brutus, Queen Yavara is going to take over your mind now. Try not to shit yourself.”

Yavara focused on Brutus’ mind and immediately shot into it. He stumbled forward, caught himself, then straightened. By the proud angle of his back, and the lack of fear in his eyes, I knew Yavara had control.

“How do you feel?” I asked Yavara in Brutus’ body.

“Like a fat guy with a drinking problem and a lot of regrets.” Yavara frowned. She pulled Brutus’s waistband outward, and glanced at the contents of his pants. She raised her brows. “But I guess he’s got that going for him.”

“So, where does the vampire element come into play here?” I asked Titus.

“Yavara, you should feel a part of Brutus’ mind that is dormant. It should feel like a muscle you aren’t using, like if your arm were to fall asleep and you lost function of your fingers. Do you get what I’m saying?” asked Titus.

“Yeah, alanya escort I feel it. Should I just… flex it?” Yavara asked through Brutus’ voice.

“Go ahead.” Titus answered.

Brutus’ body changed dramatically. His skin turned pale, his hair turned black, he grew nearly a foot in stature, and became lean and hard where he’d been soft and fat. Yavara blinked from red eyes, the slit pupils dilating.

“Wow.” She gasped.

“Pretty cool, right?” Titus smirked.

“Yavara, how is it?” I asked her.

“I feel so… alive! The power… oh, the power! I feel like I could tear a man in half! And my sex drive is just… wow.”

“And the craving?” I asked.

“No one under my care suffers the craving, not even Brutus.” Titus said resolutely. I suspected that had more to do with Ardeni Dreus being a vampire’s all-you-can-eat buffet than any benevolence on Titus’s part, but a good leader always takes credit for good things, even if they’re not his doing.

Yavara reduced Brutus to his lesser form, then returned completely to her body. Brutus blinked stupidly for a second, his eyes vacant, his entire being void of any of the glory it had just expressed. He walked back to the bar, and resumed cleaning glasses.

“I accept these terms.” Yavara said.

“And you Prestira?”

I glanced nervously at Yavara, her orange eyes alight with excitement. ‘Let’s have some fun!’ they seemed to say. I relented a smile to her. “I accept.”

“Great!” Exclaimed Titus as he patted the seats next to him, “Come sit over here and we’ll put some fangs on you.”

Titus’ daughters moved out of the way as Yavara and I sat next to him. “Who’s going first?”

“I will, Titus. If anything goes wrong, it should be on me.” I responded, my voice shaking slightly.

“Oh, there’s a noble side to you after all, Prestira. Rest assured, nothing will go wrong. Just sit back and relax.” Titus whispered in my ear.

Titus’ strong hands gently pulled the robe off my shoulders, letting it drape from the slopes of my breasts. I felt his breath on my neck, so cold, like a winter chill caressing my throat. There was an intimacy to his touch that bordered between sexual and predatory, and I nearly wilted under it. His bite was painless. I felt a pleasurable weakness permeate from the source, like a tickle within the flesh. Then it diminished, and I felt… fear.

My heart beat faster. A whimper escaped my lips. My heart beat faster. Coldness dripped down my neck. My heart beat faster. It spread outward, like ice moving gelatinously through my veins, like I was infected with it. My heart beat faster. It dripped into my chest. My heart beat faster. It pooled into my heart. My heart beat slower. My tense muscles relaxed. My heart beat slower. I was so weak. My heart beat slower. My head was so heavy. My heart beat slower. Everything was so cold. My heart beat slower. I fell against Titus. My heartbeat stopped.

My heart beat. My heart beat faster. Faster, faster, faster. I am strong! I can feel the blood rushing through me, surging like a torrent within! Blood. Blood. I need blood! There’s a woman; she has blood! I rush over and take the woman, bending her neck to present the pulsing vein. I can see it through her skin; I can smell it! I sink my fangs into her and suck through the capillaries. She whimpers. I don’t care. Keep feeding. Keep drinking blood. So good. Blood-blood-blood. I feel the life rush through me, electrifying every muscle, every nerve and neuron. I am powerful, I am life at its very edge, burning, burning from inside! The woman collapses in my arms, and I bear down on her like a lover, like a killer. There are strong arms on me, pulling me away. I gnash and snarl at unfamiliar faces as they part me from my prey. Who are they to take what is mine? That man is talking to me. He doesn’t have any blood for me. I recognize him. Titus. His name is Drake Titus. What is he saying? “How?” “How do you feel?” He’s smiling. I look down at the woman. She is cradled in Tiffany’s arms, and she is still alive. “Prestira?” Titus says. Is that my name? Prestira? Yes, that’s my name. My name is Prestira. My name is Prestira Rasloraca, and I am a witch, and I am in love with Zander Fredeon. And I am Yavara’s friend. Yavara. The woman in Tiffany’s arms is not Yavara. Yavara is sitting next to Titus. She’s afraid of me. My memories flood back to me. I regain control. I come back from the eternal now, and live once again in the universe of past and future.

“Prestira, how do you feel?” Titus asked.

“…Alive.” I said back to him after some consideration, still dazed. I looked down at myself. My skin was only slightly paler than it had been before, and my hair was still black. That was where the similarities ended, for the body beneath me was unrecognizable. My petite breasts had swelled to pressing domes, my modest backside bulged into alluring globes, and the gap between my thighs had narrowed to nothing. Lithe muscle rolled beneath my silken flesh, shadows belying striations and cords when I moved my hand. My clothes were tatters on the floor, but I felt no shame in my nudity. Why would an apex predator of such terrible grace and beauty worry about something as benign as modesty?

“I can see that.” Titus chuckled, “It’s quite the rush, isn’t it?”

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What really happened in the Frigid forest

When we last left Professor Bumram, she was being pulled deeper into the Frigid Forest by the rampaging centaurs as her students slipped away. Well now dear readers…the rest of the story.

Two centaurs held each arm of Professor Bumram and drug her further into the forest. As they pulled her, her clothes were being shredded by the nettles and briars on the floor of the forest. They finally came to a stop in a small clearing deep in the middle of the woods.

The sun was fast disappearing over the tops of the tall trees and darkness started to crawl across the canopy of the forest. The two centaurs dropped the professor unceremoniously to the ground. She was not unconscious, but not far from it. Two other centaurs came over and lifted the near lifeless body onto a huge tree trunk that had fallen across the floor of the clearing.

The professor was laid face-up and the centaurs bound her spread eagled across the tree. Her arms were bound at the wrist with some forest vines as were her legs. The centaurs took knives and finished cutting the rest of the professors clothes off.

As the centaurs stood back to look at their handiwork, they realized she was not the most beautiful human they had ever seen. What she lacked in beauty, she made up for with a huge pair of tits and big, thick lips that seemed to be beckoning them. The other centaurs were anxious to have at this human, witch or not. They were waiting for the centaur named Byrne to lead the way.

Byrne strode over to the woman on the log and started to shake her head by yanking her hair. “Wake up,” he said. No response. He shook her harder. “Wake up you bitch,” he yelled. She started to open her eyes and look around.

“Where am I?” she moaned. “How did I get here?”

“You were caught trespassing in our forest,” said Bane. “For that you must be punished.”

She tried to move her arms and legs but found them bound well by the centaurs. “What are your intentions?” she asked. “Do you know who I am?” she continued. “I am the high priestess of Titmammion. I demand that you release me immediately or you shall suffer the gravest of consequences! Are you listening to me?” she bellowed.

“Shut up you dried up cunt!” Byrne screamed back at her. “You are in no position to make any demands at this point. If you are lucky, you might just get fucked to death and die a happy woman, but that remains to be seen.” She did not reply.

“As leader of the centaurs, I, and I alone, will decide your fate.” He reached down and slapped her hard across her exposed breasts. She sucked in her breath at this but held back from groaning. He then took a nipple in between the thumb and forefinger of each hand and pulled the nipples out as far as they would stretch and then released them. He did this a couple of more times and then stopped to watch her reaction.

She screamed from the nipple pulling but her body betrayed her mouth as the nipples started to harden. “You worthless mule!” she screamed at him. “Is that all you’ve got?”

“Don’t call me mule, bitch!” he yelled back. He reared back and slapped her across the tits again. This time he giresun escort made sure the tips of his fingers swept across the hard nipples as he swung. He leaned down and took one of the nipples in his mouth and started to suck as hard as he could.

As he did so, he felt a hot, sticky, sugary sweet taste in his mouth. That made him suck all the harder and the liquid really seemed to flow from her nipples. He heard her giving out little moans as her body started to quake ever so slightly. He invited the other centaurs over to try the other nipple. He was not about to give his up. The other centaurs jockeyed for position to get at the other tit.

“Oh I see you like my magimilk. Don’t I have enough nipples to go around?” she teased at him. “Let’s see if I can rectify that.” She then started to recite a spell.

Tits swollen and full,

Nipples needing a pull.

Double D and 44,

Many callers at my door.

To share wondrous magimilk,

With those of centaur ilk.

Let my nipple count increase,

By a factor times three.

At that, each areola sprouted two more nipples and each nipple grew to a length of about 4 inches. Each nipple stood up firmly but was flexible as each centaur’s mouth found. Now six centaurs were surrounding Profesor Bumram and merrily sucking away. As each sucked and tasted the magimilk, Bumram undulated beneath their hungry mouths moaning to herself. Finally they had sucked her dry and the other centaurs pulled away.

The six nipples now drooped lazily across her breasts since they were empty of their magic potable. Byrne stepped forward and grabbed the nipples in his hands like udders and started yanking. The nipples did not respond. After a moment he stopped.

The centaur now turned his attention to the professor’s face. “I am certain that those fat little cock loving lips could use the touch of a good centaur.” Bane said.

“Bring it on!” said Bumram.

He reared up on his back two legs and slowly walked his cock over to her waiting mouth. He saw her opening for his assault and he gently placed the tip on the edge of her lips. As quickly, he slammed the length of his cock all the way in and grabbed the back of her head. Bumram almost choked from the initial thrust, but hung on as he continued burying it deeper in her throat.

She decided to fight fire with fire and mumbled an incoherent charm that immediately

turned her tongue into a foot long constricting snake. As the centaur plunged, the tongue started to wrap itself around his full blown cock. The tongue would coil and compress

on the cock sending tidal waves through the centaur.

He pulled back and watched as the tongue continued to assault his cock. It swirled around his hard tool like the stripe on a barber pole. He tossed his head back and howled at the moon as the snakelike tongue squeezed him tighter. The tongue released his cock and then wrapped around his balls. Then her tongue pulled him forward and guided his cock back into her mouth.

She closed her lips around his cock while the tongue continued to grasp his balls. She sucked him and yalova escort rocked her head up and down his pole. The tongue released his balls and slid further up under him until the tip found his puckering ass. The tongue dove in and starting squirming around in his ass.

This caused him to drive his cock deeper into her mouth. He was on the edge now. He continued to moan loudly. He took his fingers and interlocked them with her multiple nipples. He squeezed and kneaded as she continued to suck. The other centaurs were bucking wildly watching the sex acts happening before them.

Byrne could stand it no longer. He stiffened and released his steaming centaur cum into the professor’s mouth. Somehow she swallowed it as she continued to probe his ass. She then released her lip lock and pulled her tongue back in. She beckoned him closer and he leaned over towards her .

When his mouth was near hers, she suddenly shot her tongue out into his mouth. It wrapped around his tongue and he could taste his ass and his cum all at the same time. He did not recoil but pushed his lips against hers as her tongue massaged his. He had not released his grip on her nipples yet and they felt hard against his chest as he pressed against her.

He pulled back from her kiss and saw that his hands were covered in her magimilk. His squeezing had got her going again. He started licking it off his hands. As he did so, he invited the other centaurs to join in. They came over and started furiously lapping at her tits licking them clean.

When they had finished, she said, “Please release me and I will take care of the rest of you all at the same time.” The centaurs talked among themselves and then agreed to her request. After they untied her, she told them exactly what to do.

“Lay down on your back,” she instructed one. After he did, she climbed on him. “Lick my ass while I suck your cock.” He complied immediately. Her tongue roved over his cock as it hardened. His tongue felt heavenly in her ass. She pushed back trying to get it farther in her ass.

She released his cock with her tongue and then she started to flick at the head. It was like a soft whip striking his cock. With every lash, he would drive his tongue deeper into her ass. When she could stand it no more, she slid up his body and mounted his cock with her ass. With her back to his belly, he reached around and was kneading her tits.

She pointed to another and said, “Come and lick my pussy.” The centaur raced over and shoved his face into her moist pussy. As he was licking, he noticed the clit was growing. He continued to lick and suck on the clit until it became so large that he could not pull it out of his mouth. Bumram muttered a charm and the clit shrunk. “Now that you’ve got me wet, climb aboard. That’s an order.”

Now she had one centaur in her ass and one in her pussy. They were bucking away when she called the other three over. “ You two suck on my tits. And you, I want your cock in my mouth.” The centaurs gladly did as instructed. She reached under the two who were sucking on her tits and grabbed a big fat cock in each hand. The yozgat escort faster she stroked, the harder they sucked.

The centaur with his cock in her mouth was being treated to her incredible tongue treatment. Her serpent-like tongue squeezed his cock and released his cock with a pulsating rhythm that had him on the brink in no time. When she sensed that he was close, she shifted the tongue to wrap around his balls and stop him from shooting. She was in charge now and each centaur would cum when she decided the time was right.

She would tighten and loosen her ass and pussy as necessary to control both of those centaurs. She was able to keep each centaur going for the better part of an hour with her control techniques. Bumram had already come six or seven times herself. She was starting to lose count. She wished she had her wand so she could cast a spell to make room for more centaurs.

She would scream for joy if she didn’t have a big throbbing centaur cock in her mouth. She soon sensed that she had all of them built up to a near climax level. When she was ready, she willed her muscles to clamp down on each centaurs cock at the moment of deepest penetration. She was inducing a fireworks style grand finale where they would all come at the same instant.

Sensing the right moment, she tightened her ass and pussy to lock on each cock to the point that each centaur could not pull out. She repeated this with the two she was holding and the one in her mouth. As if on cue, each centaur spasmed and released their hot gooey loads into her ass, pussy, mouth, and all over her tits as one.

She gagged slightly but recovered to suck down all the cum in her mouth. She then released all her muscles and let the orgasms wave over her like the ocean’s tide. It was pure ecstasy. Each of the centaurs held his ground enjoying the incredible feeling of her vibrating body on each of their cocks.

She finally stopped her spasms and lay silent on the belly of the one centaur. The other centaurs moved away and collapsed, tired from the orgy she had provided. Each centaur drifted off to sleep, but Bumram was also too tired to move. She wanted to get up and leave, but her body could not move. Five centaur cocks would be enough to tire any witch.

She had almost drifted off herself when she heard a noise in the nearby forest. She rolled her head in the direction of the noise and saw a figure slowly gliding toward her. As the figure moved closer, she could see it was Dax, the high wizard of Dickwiddie. She wanted desperately to cover herself, but she could not muster the strength to lift her arm.

Dax came to her side and said “It looks like you have been busy Professor Bumram. I hope your new friends got their money’s worth.” None of the centaurs stirred.

“Fuck you, Dax!” she said with as much energy as she could muster.

“Dear Professor Bumram, I see no reason to berate your knight in shining armor, as it were. Besides, you appear to be in no position to call the shots.” He raised his wand and said ”Levioso tittia cunticus.” Her body rose off the sleeping centaur and followed Dax as he walked away.

“I think we will retire to my chambers to finish our dick-tation…er…discussion Professor Bumram.” said Dax.

Bumram inclined her head to see that Dax still had his wizard’s cap on, but it also looked like he had stuck it under his robe. Bumram smiled and said, “Yes Dax, perhaps I should swallow your…er…my pride and cum to you with the truth. It’s the least you deserve.”

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Sprays of blood misted through the air with every swing and stab. Tab caught the next cave goblin with a strong slash, decapitating it, the wriggling body falling to the ground, twitching weakly. More rushed her, screeching wildly, sharp teeth gnashing.

A ball of fire slammed into them, turning their bodies into ash and charred bone. Tab took a look over her shoulder, up towards the top of a nearby slope.

Lily stood near the edge, her hands swirling through the air, creating another burst of flame. Her long brown dress swished around her boots to her movements as she guided the burst into another group of cave goblins, knocking them away from Bort. He looked up at her with appreciation and awe in his eyes. She nodded back, smiling slightly, wiping a bit of sweat from the glistening sheen on her forehead.

A screech came from behind Tab. She turned, swinging her sword, catching a goblin mid-leap. Several more followed it, their screeches angry.

Her sword felled a few. One dodged her strikes and jumped onto her back. She drew her dagger, but before she could stab, it dug its teeth into her shoulder, the sharp fangs cutting through both her jerkin and her shirt. Pain erupted, drawing a grunt from her. She stabbed the dagger over her shoulder, catching the goblin right between the eyes.

Another leapt at her. An arrow smacked into its neck, knocking it down, blood spurting out messily.

She glanced back up towards the top of the slope.

Kel was near Lily, scanning the area with a new arrow already nocked. Dozens of arrows protruded here and there amidst the carnage, sticking out from goblin corpses.

A roar came from nearby. She spun just in time to see Chanko cleave a leaping goblin in two with a hearty swing of his axe. Another leapt at him. He caught it in mid-air, his palm closing on its forehead, and crushed its skull, brains squelching onto his fingers. Five more rushed him. He threw the corpse at one, knocking it back. A fireball sizzled past, taking out the others, his formidable frame silhouetted by the flash.

“How many more of these bastards are there?” Bort yelled, decapitating a lunging goblin.

Chanko gestured towards the arm of the cave the group had slunk from not so long ago. His nostrils flared.

“I can smell more. A lot more.”

A loud screeching sounded from that direction. A flash of flame illuminated the shadows enough to show countless goblins coming for them, chittering and growling.

“We need to get out of here!” Tab yelled.

Chanko glanced over at the nearby slope.

“You two climb!” he shouted. “I’ll hold them off!”

Tab looked up to Lily, still guiding fireballs out across the area.

“Lily! Firestorm, now!”

She stared back with wide eyes.

“I can’t! Not without burning you three!”

“Yes, you can!” Bort yelled up at her, slashing a goblin’s throat open. “You can do it, you just have to focus!”

“I can’t! It’s hard enough controlling the fireballs!”

“We need to get out of here!” Tab shouted, cutting through a goblin’s stomach. “Firestorm, now!”

“I can’t!”

Chanko strode towards the arm of the cave, his axe swinging viciously through the air, finding goblins left and right.

“Just focus!” Bort told her, splitting open a goblin’s skull. “Focus! You can do it!”

Lily shook her head, face pale with panic.

“I don’t want to hurt you!”

The swarm of goblins burst from the arm of the cave, a mass of spindly limbs and gnashing jaws. Chanko looked back at Tab and Bort. Arrows flew past him, picking off goblins.

“Climb!” he roared.

“Do it, Lily!” Tab shouted, ramming her sword through a goblin’s eye socket. “Firestorm, now! Or we’re fucked!”

“You can do it!” Bort continued, nodding in encouragement. “Focus! You won’t hurt us!”

Chanko snarled at the onrushing wave, his feet set, his axe held high.

“Do it, Lily!” Tab urged, chucking her dagger at a goblin, the blade lodging in its throat. “We’ll be fine, we trust you!”

Lily took a deep breath, and held out her hands, panic still across her face. Her lips began to move, muttering incantations.

Chanko snarled again at the onrushing swarm of goblins. Tab edged back towards the slope, and glanced over at Bort, who was gazing expectantly up at Lily.

Fire burst to life all around them, shooting straight up from the ground, swallowing up the swarm of goblins, and other goblins in the area, the flaming roar drowning out their shrieks. The sudden rush of heat sent Chanko stumbling backwards and almost knocked Tab and Bort over. But no fire came near them, and the few goblins who escaped the inferno due to their proximity to them were summarily dispatched. The blaze roared on, sweat springing up all over Tab. Lily kept her hands extended, staring down, brows knitted together, a vein standing out on her forehead.

“Yes!” Bort cried, pumping his fist. “I knew you could do it!”

The fire burned for a few more seconds, a towering conflagration, and then dissipated, dying down to spots of flickering flame and then finally gümüşhane escort to nothing, leaving in its wake scorched dirt and piles of ash, bones, and severely charred goblin corpses. Only Tab, Bort, and Chanko remained standing.

Lily’s eyes fluttered, and she slumped forward, her body going limp. She fell over the lip of the slope, and hit the dirt, sliding down. The trio raced towards her.

Bort reached her first, stopping her tumbling body.

“Lily!” he cried, pulling her into his arms, cradling her head.

Kel came down the slope much more gracefully, his pointed ears perking up.

“She’s alright,” he told them. “Just unconscious.”

“Do you hear any more goblins?” Tab asked him.

He shook his head.

“Do you smell any?” she asked Chanko.

He shook his head.

“Then let’s get out of here. Bort, carry her. Chanko and Kel, help me with the loot.”

The trio made their way back up the slope to where the bags lay. Tab hoisted a few over her shoulders, hissing in pain from the goblin bite.

“Let me take a look at that,” Chanko told her, hoisting up his own bags.

“After we get out of here.”

Bort waited for them, carrying Lily carefully. Her slender frame was longer than his stout physique, resting awkwardly in his arms, her dark hair falling over one side, her long legs draped over the other. The group set off towards the arm of the cave, the acrid smell of burnt flesh hanging heavy in the air. Kel stopped here and there to retrieve arrows.

No more cave goblins challenged the group on their way out, and soon, the entrance to the cave itself beckoned.

But beyond, a storm of a different kind raged. Rain lashed relentlessly, thunder roared through the air, lightning illuminated the night in powerful flashes.

“We’ll hunker down here until the morning,” she told the group.

“What if more goblins come back?” Bort asked, adjusting Lily in his arms.

“Then we’ll take our chances with the storm.”

Bort nodded, putting Lily down gently and sitting beside her. Kel took off his quiver.

“I’ll take first watch,” she continued, trudging away from the entrance, deeper into the cave. “The rest of you, get a little rest.”

“Let me take a look at that bite,” Chanko called over.

She nodded, shrugging out of her jerkin, and then staying still to let him pull the collar of her shirt to the side.

Snoring started up behind them. Bort was fast asleep, a protective arm around Lily. Kel sat nearby, cleaning his arrows.

“That kid can sleep wherever,” Chanko commented.

“We should all be so lucky.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Tab winced. Even with Chanko’s appleroot poultice smeared over her bite wound, the cord of the bag rubbing against it through her shirt was still a painful sensation. She had kept her jerkin off, subtracting from the layers between cord and wound. Other aches arose here and there. The sweat and grime from last night stuck to her skin, adding to her overall discomfort, but she did her best to ignore the annoyances.

Bort walked along next to her, Lily still unconscious in his arms. Ahead of them, Kel and Chanko carried several bags.

The mountain path had become the forest road, and the forest road had become one of the several smaller roads that led to Muddymuck. This particular road brought the group past a few farms, bleating livestock offering a pastoral soundtrack.

A mile past the last farm stood a cottage. The rickety little house, painted a bright blue, contrasted with the rows of flowers blooming in the garden behind it. A thin trail of smoke unfurled from the chimney on the roof.

Tab knocked on the door. Bort stepped up next to her, shifting Lily in his arms.

The door swung open.

Granny squinted at them for a few seconds, taking in the bedraggled group. Her eyes landed on Lily last.

“What happened?” the wizened old woman asked, stepping aside to let them clomp inside.

“She did a firestorm,” Tab told her. “Passed out once it was done.”

“Passed out? Firestorm shouldn’t knock her out like that.”

“Well, she had to make sure we didn’t get burned, so it probably took more out of her.”

“Ah, a controlled firestorm. How long has she been out?”

“Since last night.”

Granny gestured for Bort to place Lily on a nearby couch. He set her down, taking a few moments to adjust her position, arranging her arms at her sides and stretching her legs out. Her dress had ridden up slightly over her knees, showing her pale thighs, so he gently fixed the hem. Granny put a hand on her forehead, palm down, and shook her head in mild exasperation.

“All that power and still so much to learn. I could do a controlled firestorm in my sleep.”

Kel and Chanko exchanged glances from by the door.

The old woman padded past Tab, but then stopped, and eyed her shoulder.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Cave goblin bite.”

She nodded, changing direction, puttering towards hatay escort a cabinet against the near wall.

“Let me give you something for that.”

“Oh, Chanko already put a poultice on it. I’ll reapply once I get home.”

She scoffed, waving off the comment.

“I’ll give you something.”

“Will she be alright?” Bort asked.

“Of course,” Granny replied dismissively, digging through the cabinet’s drawers. “Cave goblins have nasty little mouths, but I know just the thing.”

“No, I meant Lily.”

“Oh. Yeah, she’ll be fine too. The controlled firestorm knocked a lot from her. She just needs to rest up a bit more.”

Bort nodded in relief.

“I assume you lot found something worthwhile up in the mountains,” she continued, still rummaging through the contents of the drawers.

“Aye,” Kel replied simply, setting two bags down on the floor. “That’ll be Lily’s portion.”

She nodded in thanks without looking over.

“Do you know when she might wake up?” Bort asked next.

She shrugged.

“She’ll be out a few more hours. Might even sleep through the day. You’re welcome to come back in the evening and check up on her.”

He nodded resolutely.

“If she wakes up before you come back, I’ll send Willy to the inn to let you know.”

A chirp came from the rafters, and the quartet peeked up to see a rotund sparrow peering down at them. Bort offered a little wave. Willy chirped again and withdrew from sight.

Granny plucked a small jar from a drawer, and puttered back towards Tab.

“Now, let me get a look at that bite. Take off your shirt.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“I can’t be the only one wanting to see the old bat actually do a controlled firestorm, can I?” Chanko asked.

“Definitely not,” Kel replied. “I’d pay good coin for that show.”

“I knew Lily could do it,” Bort spoke up. “Knew she had that in her.”

“Good thing she did,” Tab said. “Or it might’ve been the end of us.”

“We’ve survived worse,” Chanko mused, shrugging.

The road through the village opened up onto the main square. A few people bustled about, at the smithy, the inn, a few other places. More were gathered around the well, chatting idly.

“Welcome back,” Dawkins greeted them from his perch on the porch of the pub, puffing on a pipe.

“Good to be back,” Tab replied.

“Is that ranger still around?” Bort asked. “We figured we’d give him a cut for his info.”

Dawkins frowned pensively.

“Pretty sure he stayed at the inn again last night. But I don’t know if he’s still there.”

“I’ll ask Tiffany,” Kel spoke up.

Dawkins nodded.

One of the people around the well noticed the group as they continued on through the square. He slunk over to intercept them. Bort groaned under his breath.

“How’d it go, Grog?” Joss asked, glancing at the bags over their shoulders.

“My name’s Bort. And it went fine.”

“Whatever you say, Grog. At least now you won’t have to rely on Dawkins’ charity for a while. We all know that’s a risky venture.”

He winked and then trotted away with a hearty chuckle.

“I keep telling you,” Chanko growled. “One punch and he’ll stop calling you that.”

Bort shook his head.

“Nothing wrong with putting someone in their place,” Kel spoke up.

“I don’t want to punch him,” Bort told them.

“I’ve never even spoken to him before,” Tab added. “And I want to punch him.”

“Me too,” Kel agreed.

“I shouldn’t have to punch him for him to stop calling me that.”

“Of course not,” Chanko said. “But he won’t stop otherwise.”

Bort shrugged.

The inn was on their left, so Kel peeled off, bidding farewell with a nod, bag of loot slung over his shoulder. The remaining three headed on through to the eastern side of Muddymuck. Villagers greeted them here and there.

At the eastern edge of the village, a squat dome stood, made from packed clay. An orc waited outside, leaning against the door, watching a much smaller orc pet a cat.

“Welcome back,” the orc greeted Chanko, the two affectionately butting foreheads.

“Ba!” the child squealed, running to Chanko, hugging his leg.

“I take it the trip was a success,” Saji said to Tab, nodding at the bags over her shoulder.

“We had to fight a bunch of cave goblins, but yeah.”

Saji eyed Chanko, specifically the bloodstains caking his tunic and the grime smeared on his face.

Chanko handed his bags over to Saji. Val was still attached to his leg, peering up shyly at Tab and Bort, her usual response to seeing them. Bort smiled, but the geniality only made her draw back further behind Chanko.

“I need a bath,” he grunted.

Saji wrinkled his nose.

“You really do.”

Chanko headed inside, Val following after.

The cat slunk over to Bort, sidling between his feet. He stooped to stroke at its dust-streaked fur.

“Lily and Kel alright?” Saji asked.

“Lily’s knocked out cold,” Bort replied. “But ısparta escort she’s fine besides.”

“She’s the one who took out most of the cave goblins,” Tab added.

Saji nodded.

“You both needs baths too, you know.”

“Oh, we know.”

He nodded and retreated back inside.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“You eating first?” Bort asked. “Or taking a bath?”

“I might just dive into the stream with my clothes on. I feel disgusting.”

“You look disgusting,” he shot back with a toothy smirk.

“You’re one to talk.”

“Well, I have no one to impress there.”

Tab scoffed.

“I’m well past needing to impress Jacoby.”

“You’re right. He’s the type to take you as is. Compliment you even. ‘The cave goblin blood brings out your natural beauty’, that kind of thing.”

She laughed, shaking her head in bemusement.

“You’re not wrong.”

The landscape to their left, all rolling hills since leaving Muddymuck, was suddenly interrupted by a wooden fence, the posts weathered and old. Sheep grazed in the area past the fence, with horses trotting around further beyond. A building sat ahead, set back from the road.

Tab and Bort turned off the road, trudging towards the building, feet crunching on the dirt. Chickens strutted around, guarded lazily by an old, jowly dog, who chuffed at the pair, receiving friendly pats on the head in response.

In front of the building, a young orc chopped wood, the axe striking steadily. Two more youths, both human, were nearby. One strummed a lute in the shadow of a tree, the other stabbing at an imaginary opponent with a dull sword.

The orc noticed their approach first, and eyed them, resting the axe on her shoulder.

“What happened to you two?”

Lynn glanced over, sword falling to his side.

“Cave goblins,” Bort replied.

“Must’ve been quite the battle,” Naga snarked, her woodchopping resuming.

“It was, actually.”

“You think you can write a song about their epic struggle with the cave goblins?” Lynn asked Lyric.

“I can write a song about anything,” the latter drawled, finally glancing up.

“Go on, then.”

Lyric strummed a few times, and then nodded in satisfaction.

“‘Tab and Bort fought them…many a cave goblin!'”, he began theatrically, plucking at the strings.

“Good start,” Tab said drily.

The front door to the building opened then. Jacoby clambered down the porch steps and walked over to them, his eyes immediately raking over Tab, and then Bort.

“Welcome back,” he said warmly, pulling her into a strong embrace.

“‘And now…they come home a-hobblin’!” Lyric continued, adding a flourish with a strong strum.

“It writes itself,” Lynn commented approvingly.

Jacoby kissed her, his hand cupping her cheek.

“I need a bath,” she told him, nuzzling into his hand.

“She’s disgusting,” Bort added.

“Well, you know I think you’re always beautiful,” Jacoby told her, his thumb idly brushing a lock of wayward hair from her face. “But yeah, you need a bath.”

Bort chuckled.

“You both do,” Jacoby continued, pulling back from her to greet him with a friendly slap on the back.

“I’m going to the stream,” Tab murmured.

“Wonderful. I’ll have someone bring towels.”

“Well, I’m starving,” Bort shot back, padding towards the porch. “I need something in my belly. I can take a bath later.”

“Elezmir can probably already smell you,” Jacoby said. “Good luck getting past her.”

“I know how to charm her, don’t you worry.”

Bort stepped onto the porch.

The door swung open.

“Oh no you don’t, child!” Elezmir snarled, waving him away. “You’re not coming in here smelling like that!”

“Come on, Elezmir, I’m starving!”

The door opened again. Violet, Athelas, and Rowena hurried out, practically leaping off the porch, running to Tab. The trio stopped short just in front of her, eyes wide and mouths slack.

“What happened to you?!” Rowena asked incredulously.

“Cave goblins,” Naga answered from nearby, mid-chop.

“You should go to the stream,” Athelas suggested, nose crinkled.

“I am.”

“Oh!” Violet exclaimed happily. “We’ll bring you towels and clean clothes!”

The trio scampered back into the house.

“Go sit by the fence,” Elezmir told Bort sternly, “and I’ll bring you some food.”

Bort trudged over to the fence, and Tab continued on away from the house. Woods beckoned ahead, a rough trail cutting through the trees, curving down and to the right. Chatter came from further along the trail, the noisemakers out of eyesight for the nonce. She rolled her shoulders, her scabbard seeming to weigh heavier now at the end of her trek.

The noisemakers came into view, a half-dozen children in a ragged line, led by two older youths, one at the front, the other at the back.

“Tab!” Ofelia shouted, the first to see her. “You’re back!”

“Home sweet home,” Tab said, smiling.

Ofelia rushed forward but stopped short of a hug when she noticed her bloodstained clothes and sweat-and-ash-smeared face. The children shouted their own overlapping greetings. A few noticed the same as Ofelia when Tab drew closer, their eyes widening, their chatter falling silent.

“You look a mess,” Cam spoke up from the back of the line, Nelly babbling happily from the cradle strapped to his chest.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

The story so far…

Nurse Allie Cooke was kidnapped by a mutant ex-National Guardsman from an Omaha hospital after a nuclear war had wiped out most of civilised society in the city and in the US as a whole. Brought to an unknown location, she is being held captive by a perverse man calling himself ‘Sir’, who has told Allie he and the likes of his mutant accomplice aim to repopulate America. Already ‘Sir’ and the deformed soldier have force bred one woman, Lieutenant Betty Hawkins. Betty is about to be cruelly abused once more, and Allie is about to witness this.

*

Chapter 5

The drooling mouth of the mutated and wounded Corporal Jones latched like a leech onto the bare left breast of Betty Hawkins, Allie’s co-captive in what was rapidly becoming some kind of post-nuclear house of horrors. Allie could not help but stare as her eyes tried to discriminate in the darkness the separate bodies of the female lieutenant and the lurching corporal. All the while ‘Sir’, an unnamed, indistinguishable stranger who seemed to control things, knelt beside Allie Cooke and literally sermonized to the young nurse.

“You see Miss Cooke, we’ve had the pleasure of knowing Lieutenant Betty Hawkins since she was caught by Corporal Jones trying to steal some food from our private stocks. After some debate with some of our…um, shall we say comrades…I helped her and Corporal Jones here…a once strapping National Guardsman if I can comment on his earlier life…well, I helped them to become much better acquainted. It’s all part of my…our…grand scheme.”

Allie shook, both from the cold and the disgust she felt as she heard Jones grab Betty’s pants and tug them down. The rustling of fabric was just audible as the mutant kissed his victim’s lips with a wet and slobbering lip lock. Betty’s protests were muted, but Allie knew that something awful was happening.

“Is he…that freaking bastard…is he raping her?!” Allie wanted to shout the question but the intimidating presence of ‘Sir’ discouraged her. ‘You’re all fucking sick. Goddam animals!’

“No Allie,” ‘Sir’ whispered, “Animals rut and procreate because they need to keep the species from going extinct. What men like myself and my izmir escort comrades, as well as poor damaged Corporal Jones are doing is not just stopping the human race from becoming extinct, we’re also trying to wipe out the stain of humanity’s past mistakes. Build a better life with a new, more perfect generation.”

Allie’s eyes briefly looked into the hollow pits of the demonic ‘Sir’, trying to understand his psychotic and criminal psyche. But then she heard a gasp of pain, and she turned her head back to the piteous sight of Lieutenant Hawkins being violated by a mutant. A freak born out of the nuclear horror from 6 months ago, and who had possibly used poor Betty like some medical experiment, or for a perverse breeding scheme.

“Betty…Betty my sweet. Corporal Jones wants to make you feel sooooo good.” The lisping, hissing voice of the mutant seemed to wind its way through the air like a venomous snake. Poisoning the air, corrupting the people who heard it. “You’re used to my penis aren’t you Betty my dear. And my sperm too…it’s filled you up till you are fit to burst hmmm.” Allie was almost physically sick, and the lewd stare from ‘Sir’ told her how he felt about what Jones was uttering.

“Ohhh no, please don’t. Please…..not again. Not again!” Betty cried as she felt Jones push against her now exposed vulva with his hard cock. Not long, but thick and with a bulbous head the Corporal’s rubbed his dick with barely suppressed mad lust over her clit. It wasn’t in any way loving foreplay, but after being used like this at least half a dozen times, and almost certainly impregnated by the monster battering at her pussy lips, Betty’s body automatically responded. Her cries of anguish were mingled with an occasional sigh, and the victim of a mutant soldier rapist couldn’t help but lubricate a little due to the stimulation of her clitoris.

As Jones the deformed soldier massaged his fat cock over the poor Lieutenant’s damp cunt flaps ‘Sir’, the architect of this perverse place dropped a hand onto Allie’s bra-covered right breast. The material was cheap and hadn’t been washed for a few days, so Allie was not just nauseated by the scene kahramanmaraş escort near her as well as the molestation. She felt embarrassed to be seen like this; no matter the effects of a nuclear war, basic human decency and social niceties shouldn’t be destroyed too.

The hand at her tit cupped her carefully, softly molding the smooth palm to hold the shape of Allie’s 32B boob. She squeaked a protest; “Don’t…I don’t want this!” but ‘Sir’ stayed still and left his hand in position. All the while he stared into her face as she tried to both avoid his gaze plus shut out the vision of Corporal Jones moving closer between Betty Hawkins’ spread and pinned legs.

“Go ahead Corporal,” the commanding voice of ‘Sir’ spoke, over the top of the soft cries of protest coming from the topless and not pants-less female Lieutenant. “Fuck you sweet breeding mate soldier…keep her fertile womb swimming in your semen.” And with a bestial grunt, the mutated soldier drove his fully erect phallus up inside his victim. And all Allie could do was mouth a silent “Oh my lord!” as she saw and heard Betty succumb to the thrusting cock of her rapist.

Chapter 6

As the 19-year-old student nurse shuddered the silent form of ‘Sir’ knelt near her, keeping his hand firmly cupped over her bra-covered right tit. His fingers didn’t move, but his palm did put some pressure exactly over the section of fabric that covered her nipple. Allie tried to assimilate the sensory and mental anguish she was surrounded by; near her she heard the grunts and cries of the mutant national guardsman violating a poor fellow female captive who had been impregnated before by the monster between her thighs.

“My god…you sick dirty fucking bastards…why are you doing this.” Allie spat out the question with as much hate and disgust she could muster. The hand on her breast tightened and ‘Sir’ drew closer.

“Don’t question me Miss Cooke. You are only going to survive by submitting to your fate…your biological purpose. If I find you to be a rebellious influence on our plans here to repopulate and re-establish the USA then my powerful friends and will let you starve, manavgat escort go without shelter…abandon you to the radioactive wilderness.”

Allie tried to see the face of ‘Sir’, and gauge any degree of intent from him beside that cruel import in his voice, but there just wasn’t sufficient light. However, there was enough illumination from under the door for her to see as she twisted her head that poor Betty Hawkins was being savagely raped.

“Oh Christ Betty,” the mutant soldier gasped as he pushed and poked his fully erect and uncovered prick again and again inside the battered vagina of his victim “You still feel tight when I fuck you. Love fucking youuuuuu…” Corporal Jones sighed the last word as his scarred body humped Betty without pity and without any love. This was the act of a creature, not a normal man, and the lust-crazed mutated creature that was the Corporal hungrily stabbed his dick between Betty labia lips.

“How taut is Lieutenant Hawkin’s birth canal?” ‘Sir’ enquired, slowly pawing Allie’s left boob now.

“Uhh….Sssssir it feels very tight….ahhh fuck….when she pops my kid she might tear sirrr…ah fuck. Yesssss.” The hissing snake-like voice chilled Allie’s heart.

“Oh I hate this….pleassssssse…no more…no more….you’re hurting me…hurting me and the…ahhh…baby.”

Lieutenant Hawkins sobbed her begging plea as loud as she could, trying to make her pitiable voice heard over the lewd and base grunting of the mutant using her violated pussy. ‘Sir’ stopped gently fondling Allie’s breast to focus on what Betty had said. His twisted, perverse mind made a snap decision.

“Corporal Jones…stop rutting with your child’s mother now.” The one-eyed and cruelly burnt face of Jones looked back, trying to discern in the darkness what was going on. “Stop now…or you may cause irreparable damage to Lieutenant Hawkin’s ability to bear children.”

Allie looked on in shock as ‘Sir’ left her side and strode the couple of paces to grab Betty’s rapist by the right shoulder. “I said STOP NOW!” With a ferocious yank ‘Sir’ pulled the naked Corporal away from between Betty’s splayed and naked legs. Her pussy, bruised and moistened by Jones’ pre-ejaculate would have been open to see by one and all if there had been sufficient light. Allie dry-retched as she heard Betty babble ‘Gotta protect my baby…gotta protect my baby…gotta protect my baby.” All the while Corporal Jones counterbalanced her sorrowful voice with a hissing “Wanna keep fucking her sir…need to cum so baddddddd…cum in her pusssssssyyyy.”

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Chapter 23: Expediency

Vine pressed a moist leaf to his Sister’s brow. Kalia groaned under his fingers, her near identical face staring back at him with unfocused eyes.

“Shh,” he cooed. “It is over.”

Kalia smacked her lips for moisture, a strange action for a creature deriving from water.

“We must put her back in the Mother Tree Takh. She is too weak to go on her own.”

Vine looked over to his Brother, Dew-El, his blue eyes filled with grave worry. Together, they lifted the nymph and pressed her back inside of the pure essence. The tree was the corporeal representation of their spirit. Thousands of water nymphs could fit inside of it, allowing themselves to dissolve into its comfort for the earth’s blessing and wisdom. In this case, it was for healing.

“The witches have gone too far.”

Takh turned to Dew-El. Despite his fierce tone he was shivering in fear. Long had they been used for pleasure by the witches. Nymphs reveled in pleasure, they lived off of it, fed off of it. It was a way of life. The witches perverted it into a power struggle, destroying the core of it, mutilating it into a punishment, a slavery. It was one witch in particular who was nasty. They knew not her name, simply called her, Dull Eyes.

“What would you have us do?” Takh asked.

Dew-El looked around at their nest. No one was being intimate. They were standing, waiting for something.

“Where is Caleem?”

“They did not return him,” a Brother whispered.

“They will destroy us.”

“No.”

Vine looked at the tree. How he loved it. They could not leave it without dooming themselves. Not unless, someone helped them. “We must…we must appeal to the witches, those of the elements might have mercy on us. Until then, we should scout for a new dwelling.”

“We would leave the Mother tree?”

The nest began to rustle with unrest. Vine could feel all of their emotions. Nymphs were telepathic after all. That was what made this so painful. Hurting one hurt all.

“You know how I feel,” Vine sighed. “We cannot keep caring for the injured until one of us goes mad. The witches are unchecked in power. The Monokeros has not been seen since the rites of carnality. I fear…we are hopelessly outmatched.”

He was about to say something else when he felt a weak voice call out in his mind.

“Brothers…help..m-me…”

“Caleem!”

“Brother Caleem!”

“Some will stay to—”

“…watch the young ones and…”

“Takh will…”

“Yes.”

The nymphs were in agreement. Vine sat by the tree and watched the nymphs that slipped into the ground, headed towards their injured brother.

“Takh…?”

Talia’s slender blue hand reached out of the Mother tree.

Vine held her hand. “I’m here. I’m here.”

—

“Get up.”

Caligula pulled Zyra to her feet. She rose ungracefully, yanking her arm from his grip. She turned to him, tears streaming down her face.

“You had no right…”

Etaceh walked up to embrace her. “Zyra, darling…”

“No right!” Zyra shoved her away, Etaceh’s eyes widening as she stumbled back.

“I hate you.”

She rounded on Caligula like an animal, her face painted with rage and misery.

I hate all of you!” Blindly, she ran at him, tumbling to the ground when he vanished in front of her.

“Enough.”

Caligula stood behind her, his purple eyes glowing. Etaceh gasped. Zyra noted a twinge of fear in her face before a smile slid onto her blood red lips.

“Let us show you your room!” Etaceh bounced happily, forward, her black skirts trailing the floor. She pulled Zyra to her feet and put a hand on the small of her back, ushering her forward.

Zyra looked back at Caligula as he radiated with power. She turned back, rubbed her eyes, and followed Etaceh. Zyra took a deep breath. She had to stay calm. She needed to stay calm.

Etaceh took her down a winding corridor adjacent to the Marble Basin. They passed a few witches in grey garb that shuffled quietly in a line. She stared at them, but they did not acknowledge her. She wondered if they could.

“Here.”

Etaceh gestured to a room without a door. It was very much like the room Zyra had found herself in after collapsing before the Marble Tree. It was dark, cold, and made white of marble. Etaceh waved a hand. A long line of candles began to light. As the room illuminated, Zyra saw the candles made a complete circle around the bed. It had a strange sheer netting at the top, which hung like a tent above it. Inside were fluffy gold pillows and a thin white dress. In the far corner sat a wooden table with a gold jug and cloth.

“Oh how lovely,” Etaceh cooed. “A canopy bed. I always wanted one when I was a young girl. I have one now, but it’s never quite the same now is it? Tell me dear, have you ever seen such finery?”

Zyra shook her head. “No. I suppose not.”

“You see the candle bases? The jug? Solid gold, and there’s gold thread in your sheets as well.”

Zyra walked up to the bed and ran a hand along it. Cloth, ardahan escort thin white cloth and not a fur to be seen, and the gold. Gold, the color of Rell and Gharla’s hair, the color of Nima’s field of flowers, the color of lust, Kail’s earring, and Kail’s eyes.

“I sewed it myself,” Etaceh quipped. Zyra’s silence was unsettling.

Zyra turned. “Why?”

“Well if you want something done right you have to do it yourself—”

“Why gold?”

Etaceh blinked. “Why…it’s the color of the monokeros. White and gold.”

Zyra looked back at the bed. She could ignore the white sheets, but not the golden pillows. She strode over, picked them up, and handed them to Etaceh.

“I don’t need these.”

“But…darling—”

“Please.”

Etaceh stared at the emotion swimming in Zyra’s eyes. “Please take them away.”

Etaceh’s lips thinned as she made the pillows dematerialize. “Anything else?”

“A door.”

“Oh, well that’s a quick…”

“You can make a door when you are strong enough.”

Caligula stood in the doorway. Zyra didn’t like the way he was looking at her. His face was calm, his eyes were not. He could not fool her, no matter what he believed.

“Get some sleep,” he continued. “You have a big day tomorrow.”

Etaceh gave her a tight smile. “Goodnight darling, we’ll wake you in the morning.” With that, the witches turned and left.

Zyra stood alone in the circle of golden candles. She didn’t like sleeping in a room without a door. She thought of the trees in the nymph dwelling. They had broad bark. With enough force, she could peel it off. If they weren’t going to give her one, she would just have to make one. Zyra put her pack down and slipped off her shoes. Pushing the dress to the floor, she climbed underneath the strange covers. Then she closed her eyes, and the candles blew out.

—

A shift, a faint throb, but present, so present.

Scallen knew that something was different in the Valley. He knew the witches had gone to the border, and they had brought something back with them, to be specific, a human. He was relatively sure who that human was as well. He couldn’t see Caligula allowing the Rovians anymore of the initial pleasantries he had given, when he was still trying to lull them into a false sense of security. He supposed the old witch thought he was clever.

Scallen’s mind drifted off to human in question, Zyra. He still remembered how her green eyes had glittered as he thrust his tongue inside of her. She contorted like a wild thing, pleading for more. He could have done anything he wanted with her, and she would have begged for it. Granted, his venom had given her a little help.

Scallen was curious to see what state she was in. He doubted she was pleased to be here, and chances were she was alone. Something akin to care stirred inside of him. He did owe her a debt, one that he had repaid, but could never truly be resolved. He had underestimated her and her party, it had nearly cost him his life. Scallen sniffed the air. It was night, too late for a visit. Poor thing would be exhausted. Scallen smiled to himself.

He would wait until tomorrow.

—

“Zyra…Zyra honey, it’s time to wake up…”

“Um…Ginger?”

“Oh sweetie, you do sleep like a log.”

Zyra rolled around, fighting her way out of the cloths. When her head surfaced, she saw an amused Etaceh smiling down at her.

“Come, I will take you to the hot spring,”

“The wha—”

“It’s a bath darling. You’ll refresh yourself there, bring your clothes. Or don’t. Whatever your preference, comfort, or level of self-esteem permits.”

Zyra hopped out of the bed, hissing when her feet touched the cool floor. Sighing, she put on her boots and rummaged for her huntress garb.

Etaceh looked at the primitive outfit with disdain.

“If you require more clothes…”

“I don’t want anything.”

The witch looked visibly annoyed but shrugged with a dramatic flourish. “Never say I didn’t try to care for you dear. It isn’t a crime to wear more than one color you know…and with a little class.”

Zyra didn’t answer her. Etaceh led her down the dark corridor, still filled with the moonlight from a perpetual night. At the end of the hall was a painting. It was a picture with three stone towers, a flag on two. The third tower had a scorch mark where its flag was meant to be.

“A castle,” Zyra whispered.

“Yes,” Etaceh said surprised. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve heard stories.”

“From who?”

“My…” Zyra paused. Etaceh looked too intent. She shrugged, choosing to keep her mother secret. “My elders. They tell folktales, of the ruins that were swept by the magic after The Purging.” The magic users had destroyed all remnants of human civilization, all technology was lost. The humans truly began anew.

Etaceh knocked on the painting three times. It swung open to reveal a steamy white room filled with candles.

“Well dear, it might please you to adıyaman escort know that not all of the ruins are gone. There are…a handful left.”

Zyra followed her. The witches appeared to have a lake. It curved around a corner, past the point of her vision. Zyra touched the water.

“It’s hot.”

“Now you know why it is called a hot spring. Now, take a bit of this.”

Etaceh’s empty hand soon held a bar of soap. From a distance Zyra could see it was smoother and sweeter smelling than any soap she had ever used. She didn’t trust it.

“I don’t…”

“You will use it,” Etaceh commanded. “Soak yourself thoroughly. A towel will arrive shortly.”

“A what?”

Etaceh walked off. Zyra sighed. The woman was crazy. She took off her clothes, putting her belongings in the driest place she could find. Then she submerged herself. To her surprise the water was incredibly soothing. Her aching muscles began to unravel and she let out a coo of appreciation. Perhaps not all things would be terrible.

After several minutes of floating, Zyra decided to see what was around the bend. Taking a deep breath, she began to swim under the water, her open eyes disliking the warm water. Zyra continued, not wishing to swim too close to the surface. She disliked Etaceh enough without having her see, and as a result comment, on her naked body.

The bend was actually farther than she had anticipated. The place where she had been bathing was shallow enough for her to stand. Now, she was swimming, the bottom too murky for her sight. Silently, she crept through the water. Ahead she saw a large cropping of rocks jutting in the center of a rippling pool.

At the far end were three waterfalls, each the same height, churning the lake with foam. She remembered the Akeeran land had a waterfall. They used it in their coming of age ceremony. If a child did not pass the test they would be given a second chance. The Akeerans would throw them down the waterfall. If they survived, they were forgiven and accepted.

And if they did not…

Zyra shook the images out of her mind. The Akeerans were no more, her mother had seen to that.

Zyra swam quietly towards the rocks. They were gray, made of something she had never seen. A light seemed to glow from within them. She drew closer and closer, until her hand rested against the rock’s rough surface. The rock pulsed with a strange energy. It made her fingertips tingle. She watched in wonder as it turned a light yellow. What a peculiar—

“You’re curious.”

Zyra shrieked and struck out. Her hand missed its target, instead splashing it with water. She retreated while it sputtered, her face filled with embarrassment, her eyes, rage.

“Who are you?” she demanded, an arm around her breast, the other holding onto the lake’s white edge.

The figure seemed to glide through the water as he came closer, wiping his face. A pair of dark eyes looked at her, his black wet hair jutting out wildly against the pale pallor of his skin. He was even paler than Rell. He looked as though he had never seen sunlight. She could see a blue

vein in his neck.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said. “I was merely taking my bath.”

It suddenly dawned on her that both she and the stranger were naked. Her face burning, she gave him one last dirty look before diving beneath the water. She swam as fast as she could, back to the place where Etaceh had left her. The woman was nowhere to be found.

“Damn it all,” Zyra cursed. Forget Etaceh and the…towel.

She pulled herself out of the hot spring and tossed on her clothing. When she was in the process of slipping on her boots, the pale stranger appeared, watching her curiously.

“Wait. I meant no offense.”

“Zyra…” Etaceh’s sung rendition of her name did not help her temper. Another cloth was in her hand. This one resembled a fur. The Valley had so many names for so many cloths.

“Oh, Zyra. You didn’t wait for…”

“I’ll dry outside.”

Zyra strode past her and out of the room. She had been submerged right? There was no way he could have seen her. How long had he been watching her? If he had been there when she was heading towards the stone he had probably seen her breasts. Zyra saw a white marble vase on her right. She struck it to the ground.

This wasn’t fair. One day and she already felt violated. No door, no privacy, and not a single fur in this Maker forsaken nightmare. Zyra saw another vase, broke that one too. By the time she reached the Marble Basin she had knocked over five vase, three paintings, and two candle stands.

She found Caligula waiting for her.

“Done with your tantrum?”

Zyra stared blankly at him. With little emotion, she pushed down a tiny white statute. It head cracked against the floor.

“Goodness darling, you could have waited.” Etaceh strode forward, a hand waving by each item she had upended. Zyra watched as the items floated up into the air, mending themselves before karabük escort settling back in their positions. Etaceh was about to go to the pillar but Caligula held up a hand.

“No. Leave it.” He returned Zyra’s look with a smirk. “I like it better this way.”

“Shall I make the others match?”

“That won’t be necessary. At least, not yet.”

Caligula walked until he stood in front of her.

“I think it is about time we talk about your training. Perhaps over food?” Caligula smiled.

With a gesture, the Marble Tree opened.

Outside she saw the Valley’s lush green grass was sprinkled with tiny red and yellow flowers.

Caligula walked outside, plucked a yellow flower and tossed it in the air. Before it touched the ground it grew in size until it was a large table. Caligula walked over and sat beside it, in mid-air. Etaceh did the same. They looked at her expectantly.

“Well? Aren’t you going to join us?”

Ugh. Zyra walked out, the Marble Tree closing behind her. She stood beside the table.

“Well? Sit.”

“There are no seats.”

“Oh but there are,” Etaceh gushed. “Go ahead. Sit down.”

Zyra rolled her eyes and eased herself downwards. She was shocked to find something beneath her. Gently, she sat, both disturbed and amazed that she was sitting on what appeared to be nothing.

“Rule one,” Etaceh said. “Your eyes will deceive you. Your senses are more reliable. Your eyes are always the last to know. It means your enemy has gotten too close.”

“What will you teach me?” Zyra asked. “And why? What do I have to do?”

“Patience,” Caligula said. “All in time. I will answer this, the first thing we must do is teach you how to manage the power of a keromedio.”

Etaceh nodded in agreement. “Physically you are in great condition. Your magic however, is rough and instinctive. The first thing you will learn will be how to channel it, focus it into actual spells and not just lucky coincidences.”

“There are several division of magic,” Caligula continued. “That much you can see from the different witches in the Tree, however it is most important that you know four types. When we are done, you will know Elemental magic, how to resist magic attacks or Defensive magic, Offensive magic, and of course, Practical magic.”

“Practical magic?”

“Yes. Making water safe for drinking. Healing a wound. Things like that.”

Zyra wanted to ask why she would need any of those things, but she knew the witches would not answer her. Instead she asked, “What about light and dark?”

Her question caught Caligula off guard. “What?”

“Light magic and Dark magic?”

Caligula and Etaceh chuckled. “No such thing.”

A large assortment of foreign food appeared upon the table and Etaceh chirped in glee. “Finally! You’d think we had conjured the fruit instead of summoned it.” She selected a purple thing and began to eat.

Warily, Zyra followed suit. Biting into it, she found it juicy and cold. It tasted like…what flowers smelled like. Hm, not bad.

When the meal was done, the table reverted back into a flower, and they lead her towards the edge of the dwelling of the nymphs.

“For expediency we have decided to pair your lessons together,” Caligula said, pointing to a small clearing.

Zyra didn’t like standing in it. The odd juxtaposition between the heavily wooded thicket and the open field suggested it had been cleared, for her. She felt queasy.

“We have decided that your Offensive magic will more often than not be a combination of blocks and counterstrikes. In other words, it will be a more…active, Defensive magic. And we will ally your practical magic to your elemental magic. Etaceh will teach the later, I will teach the former.”

Caligula’s expression foreshadowed a grueling process, no doubt a punishment for her insubordination.

“We start your elemental training today,” Etaceh said happily. “I believe that Earth is a good element to start with, considering how comfortable you seem in the forest.”

Zyra nodded. “Very well.”

“Oh, and one more thing…”

Out of nowhere, a witch strode out of the woods. It was the man from the hot spring. He startled her twice, she, a Rovian huntress, twice! He was garbed in a fitted black robe and wore black gloves. Unsurprisingly, he carried a black stick that had a cloth stretched upon it, keeping the sun off of his form.

“This is Medean, a dark witch from another coven.”

“I thought you said there was no such thing as Dark magic.”

Medean stepped forward, bowing. “I am a user of black magic. When I cast, my aura turns black, thus why I am called a dark witch. My magic itself is not Dark.”

Zyra nodded in his direction and looked away. His face continued to have that same pleasant smile. She wanted to punch him. Instead, she turned to Etaceh.

“Shouldn’t we begin?”

Etaceh smirked at her. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Boys, do you mind?”

“Not at all. I will see her for my lesson soon.” Caligula and Medean walked off, and Etaceh and

Zyra were alone.

“What do I have to do first?” Zyra asked.

She began stretching. Maybe she would have to climb trees and get magical dust, or perhaps she’d have to dig to increase her hand strength.

“This is your task.” Etaceh bent down and scooped something up. She extended her hand to Zyra. It was a seed.

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