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Chapter One

Michael and Amelia approached the Throne of Heaven with trepidation in their steps. Despite being archangels charged with the operations and defense of Heaven, the news they brought had them nervously glancing at one another as they reached the first steps leading to the dais.

“My children,” the strong, kindly voice of the Lord coaxed them from the golden seat of Heaven’s power, “Come, tell me what troubles you.”

“The Chosen One is gone, Lord,” Michael spoke up. “She and another have been returned to the Maker. Her purity had been besmirched by one of the Proctors sent to retrieve her when she escaped from Purgatory.”

“She escaped from a fate she could not tolerate, my son.” The Lord replied, startling both archangels with the insight they had not fathomed he knew. “Did my message to leave her be go unheeded?”

Both angels knelt and bowed their heads. “I am afraid so, Lord,” Amelia offered. We are not sure the message reached the Dominion or Proctors tasked with her retrieval in time.”

They understood that the Savior looking down at them from his casual sprawl across his throne was all merciful, but the situation was unprecedented. A Chosen One would not be brought before Him at her appointed time. They did not know if another could be quickened in her place. The Fallen still controlled The Pit and it was unlikely that they could be persuaded to cooperate in maintaining The Balance. Michael and Amelia glanced at one another once again and waited.

“You worry about The Balance, don’t you, my children?” The Lord chuckled in amusement to their shared consternation. “And how I knew about this particular Chosen, don’t you?” They nodded. “Tell me, Michael, what is your impression of Rachel?”

“She is brash, profane and bonded to both a mortal and a creature of The Pit…” Michael started.

“I know what and who she is, my son. I asked you your opinion of her.”

“Effective, Lord. Her decisions to act or not have been uncanny in their role of catalyst to fortunate choices by the mortals she influences as well as those under the guidance of others. That she continues to do so, even bound to that demon astounds me, frankly. Lord.” Michael added the honorific almost as an afterthought and widened his eyes at the seeming faux pas. The Lord smiled.

“Thank you for your honesty, Michael.” The Lord replied as his gaze turned sly. “Do you think perhaps her actions might even border on the,” he paused, “Divine?”

Both Michael and Amelia gaped. “You sent her, Lord?!” They gasped.

“No. No, I would not interfere in your administration and operation of our realm in that way. Have I not always delegated? The Maker and I knew Cassandra’s soul would never be a fit for her role and conveniently, the Proctor Steven was well suited to ensure she would not have to suffer that fate. Unfortunately, Rachel was the Dominion who was closest when her retrieval was ordered.” Jesus sighed heavily. “It is too bad mortals cannot make any of the choices necessary to alter our protocols…but it is what it is. So, their souls are back with The Maker and it seems I’m out one concubine.”

The two archangels’ mouths, opened as wide as they were, could not possibly have dropped open further even though they felt as though they should. The Lord had never addressed them quite so…openly, before.

“But tell me, why have you waited until nearly the deadline to come and inform me of this conundrum? Were you attempting a remedy on your own? Surely you knew you would need my or The Maker’s assistance to procure a replacement? And how is Lilith, Michael?”

The taller archangel blanched. “Lord, I, I…”

When nothing further seemed to be forthcoming, Amelia leaped to Michael’s defense. “I was fully aware of Michael’s attempts to contact Lilith to find a solution and I also fully supported his efforts, Lord.” She bowed her head again then looked up bravely. “Lilith did not have time for our…proposals…Lord. It seems she is consolidating her spoils and new realms left for the taking in the havoc that Lorelei wreaked down there in this latest upheaval she was roped into…” The dusky-skinned archangel trailed off as she thought over her next words but the grinning deity above her interrupted.

“All of you here in our realm so worried about maintaining this Balance and one demon in love lays waste to it all.” Jesus chuckled with amusement. “That Alex is such a lucky dude, don’t you think?”

Michael blinked. Amelia’s mouth dropped open again. If the Divine Son had suddenly leapt from the throne to begin break-dancing on the spotless floor of the throne room to Michael Jackson’s “Thriller,” they could not have been more surprised.

“Be that as it may, I will not have a new spawn-of-the-pit courtesan with which to appease this…Balance,” He mused thoughtfully. “Perhaps Dad will let me pop back down to Earth to find one on my own this time. That whole Savior and Shepherd thing from two thousand plus years ago bahçelievler escort was fine for those times but this time, I’d like to have a little fun.”

An arch, feminine voice admonished from behind the throne: “You are about to give them heart attacks, son of mine. Do not toy with them like that. It is unbecoming.”

“Yes, Mother,” Jesus replied over his shoulder, immediately contrite. He watched as the beautiful olive-skinned woman emerged from behind the throne where she had come up

from her quarters nearby. Her shrouds and coverings still hinted at a Middle Eastern heritage but she looked more a modern woman of Dubai than any depiction made by Western or European artisans.

“And about that permission you seek, will you ask your Father or my husband?”

“Wellllllll…” The Lord drew out, “I did mean Dad. He’s always been the softer touch.”

Mary threw back her head and laughed, her hood falling back to her shoulders, as they shook with her mirth. “Do you remember what he said to you after that fracas at the temple? He was beside himself.”

“Mother…”

“Oh, stop. You really want a mortal this time? Now, THAT would certainly upset the apple cart of The Balance.”

Michael and Amelia stared and would have fallen over in delirium if anyone had so much as touched them with…one of their wing feathers. They couldn’t believe what they were hearing.

“It’d be different, wouldn’t it, Mother? But the mortals, bless their souls, would fall all over themselves again, working their heads and hearts into those unbelievable knots they can tie themselves into. Second Coming, indeed! And worse if there were third and fourth and hmmm…endless comings…”

“JESUS!”

“Just kidding,” the Lord sighed. “But…ah well, nothing.”

“You miss Magdalene, my son. I know. I don’t think it coincidence that every Chosen One ends up looking like her by the end.”

“I don’t know why He won’t release her soul.”

“He…has His reasons.”

Michael finally found his voice although he had to dig deep within himself to locate it again. “Lord…if you please, we will go to see what can be done.” The very strange conversation they had and witnessed with two of the Principals of Heaven had his mind going to very strange places. Amelia searched his face and nodded.

The Lord raised an almost negligent wave to dismiss them but also fixed Michael with a last piercing look. “Say hello to Lilith for me when you see her.”

Michael froze. “I…I will. Sire.”

“Oh, come off it, Michael,” Jesus huffed. “You’ve been in love with that woman since Lucifer created her, and it’s high time you came down off that very high horse of yours and admitted it.” He shook his head, “Some wild monkey sex with that Fallen-spawn would do you good, I think.”

Michael and Amelia fled, Mary’s bright and way too knowing laughter chasing them out.

Chapter Two

Carkeek Park looked much the same that it had the last time Lilith was here but the two she was meeting this time were much more formidable than the vaunted succubus Lorelei and one of her mortal friends. Lilith snorted. That damned…what had she called the demon who had turned The Pit inside out in her quest to save her loves? “…the proverbial whore of Babylon.” Yes. Lilith remembered how she had nearly dismissed Lorelei’s request in favor of offering her pretty little head for the bounty that the other Dukes of Hell had offered. Oh, the temerity the succubus had displayed in throwing Baal’s lands into disastrous chaos. Fortunately, Lilith had not betrayed Lorelei. She thought about the holdings she now ruled over in The Pit: Baal’s, Azazel’s…and Belial’s. She was now the most powerful of the active lords in her dark realm.

Well, save for that snot who’d brought her into being but Lucifer rarely ventured from his hidey-hole anymore. She looked up from her musings as the two messengers from Heaven approached and her mouth hardened into a thin line. “Fuck,” she thought, “why did it have to be him?”

Michael narrowed his eyes as he strode towards the black-haired daughter of Heaven’s former Most High and saw the contempt that dripped from Lilith’s sneer. Although he had Amelia’s presence and support, he almost wished he could have done this alone. He couldn’t help but notice that her dark, nearly ravenous beauty seemed to be enhanced even further by the power she exuded. He knew she controlled four of the fiefdoms of Hell now, and he wondered if his former brother Lucifer had stirred from the self-imposed exile he wallowed in.

Damn that Fallen Lord’s eyes! Michael had been inordinately proud of his creation, Eve, but one look at Lucifer’s concept in Lilith and he knew that he’d been outdone. And worse, although The Lord had chosen his design for Adam, it was Lilith who filled his thoughts with unfamiliar emotions.

Greed. Possession. Lust. And longing.

“Lilith.” Michael halted bağcılar escort before the dark demon.

Lilith ignored the taller angel and addressed Amelia, “To what do I owe this second waste of my time and yours? Not that I care all that much now, although I would have thought my last refusal was clear enough. What part of ‘not until your Lord grovels in the filth at my feet and promises me that one’s head’,” she spat, glancing contemptuously at Michael while pointing an accusing finger at him, “was not understandable by your virtue-addled pea brains?”

Amelia bristled as Michael stepped forward menacingly. He might secretly obsess over this magnificently evil creature but there were limits. “You go too far,” he growled, eyes narrowing as a violet sphere of power crackled into the air around Lilith’s fist and her chin rose defiantly.

“Come to me, oh Archangel,” Lilith mocked derisively, “Let us see whether your precious Balance teeters on the razor’s edge or if the scale has been irretrievably tipped.”

With her free hand, Lilith beckoned her angry nemesis forward. Pinching her fingers shut immediately extinguished Amelia’s flaming sword, drawn from the female angel’s palm as Michael had stepped forward. Amelia’s eyes rounded in surprise. Michael’s own weapon flashed from his palm and swung up high as though to strike, the arc infused ball of energy leaving Lilith’s hand to clash with Michael’s broadsword. The Heaven’s Glory infused blade released a thunderclap with the impact. The two held where they touched, sparks, flames, and the most fearsome of apocalyptic sounds surrounding the two combatants.

Amelia made as if to charge in, heedless of whether or not her Sword of Judgement had been nullified but a gesture from Lilith’s free hand sent her flying against one of the thick, barren trees. Hearing it crack, she scrambled away, limping, as the tree split further, bent, and toppled with a crash.

Neither Michael or Lilith noticed, locked in their deadly struggle, fierce grimaces mirrored, his deep blue eyes locked in mortal combat with her even darker violet ones. Rage played deeply in his vibrant pupils as well as even darker emotions. Her eyes were just as wild, scorching in their searing anger and a deeper, more desperate one.

Betrayal.

Michael blinked. Lilith’s power surged, her sphere sliding down his flaming blade to wallop him on the side of his head and send him tumbling as she leapt after him to take advantage. He rolled and raised his sword just in time to catch her overhand hammer blow barely inches from his face. He grimaced, then slowly stood, pushing her back, his halo glowing brightly with Heaven’s Light, his pure white wings spreading high and wide behind him. Lilith’s eyes widened and although she redoubled her efforts, was soon forced backward until Michael had her pinned against one of the largest of the winter-shorn trees, flaming blade at her throat, and her sphere wielding fist immobilized over her head with his other hand.

“Yield.” He growled menacingly.

“Fuck you,” she spat back, attempting to twist her face away, the purple sphere above them roiling and crackling with thwarted rage.

“Lilith,” Michael replied, his lowered voice losing its ire. His look became pained. “Please. Yield.”

Lilith glared at him with a rage fueled by frustration at her inability to overcome Michael’s hold on her wrist and throat as well as the pain that had wrapped her heart ever since he’d rejected her oh those millennia ago. His eyes remained with hers, seeing too much, knowing too much, expecting too much. “What the hell do you want from me!?!” she yelled in his face even as her struggles ceased.

He did not release her, but she felt his hold on her wrist ease and the flaming sword at her throat dropped away. His eyes grew softer yet, into twin blue pools that hurt even more than his anger. She couldn’t take it any longer and wrenched away, turning to stand with her back to him as her shoulders heaved. Amelia came up to stand beside him but he shook his head in warning. Turning back to face them, Lilith lifted her chin. Michael spoke.

“The Chosen One…we need another. Cassandra is no more. She ran, but not before consummating a love with one of our best proctors. He shared her fate.”

“How is that MY concern? I care not for your precious…”

“The Balance must not fail. Not now. It may, and soon. But not now.” Michael explained resignedly.

“What is soon, Michael? A year for them is but an instant for us. I am sick of this so-called Balance! I, who have conquered four realms in Hell cannot even overcome one, fucking one, godforsaken archangel!! WHERE IS THE BALANCE IN THAT?!?” Her voice rose until she screamed the last at him.

“That isn’t what The Balance is about and you must know that, Lilith,” Amelia interjected gently. She seemed to bear no animosity towards the First Daughter of Hell for blasting her into ümraniye escort the tree.

“Of course, I know that!!” Lilith rounded on the smaller archangel savagely. “Why do they get to choose?!” She railed, her arms flailing above her head. “What about us?? What if I am absolutely done with this stupid state where I am forever consigned to that fucking wasteland of filth and evil and cruelty…” She trailed off realizing she must sound like some crazy mortal. The two archangels stared at her in mute shock, completely amazed at the complaints pouring from her. Her, Lilith, who’d orchestrated much of the same corrupted state of The Pit that she now revealed her abhorrence to.

“It’s all YOUR fucking fault.” She huffed finally, staring at Michael. He didn’t even blink, his blue eyes turning even darker than when they’d been fighting. His right hand twitched, then lifted, reaching out towards her. Amelia blinked, as did Lilith, whose eyes then narrowed, while Amelia turned towards him with a questioning look.

“I-I’m sorry, Lilith. I…never meant to hurt you that way…”

“Well, the road to Hell IS littered with good intentions,” she sneered back at him. “Fucking literally, in my case.” She pointed at him. “You rigged the trial so that blonde twat of yours ended up going to The Garden. And when MY asshole of a father went off the deep end because YOU cheated, who got fucking dragged down with him? It sure wasn’t YOU!!” Lilith was nearly as angry as she had been earlier, and a faint purple glow began building around her fingers again.

Amelia’s shocked gasp caused both archangel and demon queen to turn towards the dark-skinned angel as her incredulous countenance told them both she’d figured it out. She stepped back from Michael as though he might burn her with his nearness.

“You?!? YOU?!?? Y-you are the reason for The Fall?!? The Balance must be maintained because of YOU?!?” The other archangel was nearly beside herself with shock and revulsion that was beginning to morph into righteous rage.

Michael looked down while reaching up to squeeze at the corners of his forehead in a gesture of chagrin and frustration and…defeat. “Yes,” he murmured tiredly, with the air of someone having to reveal and explain a tragic mistake, again. Of having to relive the pain and regret and guilt anew after having run from it nearly his entire immortal existence. “Yes, to it all. I have spent my entire time as a leader amongst you trying to remedy the disruption and upheaval my pride wrought in our universe. There would be no Hell…but for my pride…and…and…”

He turned away from them both, his wings sagging so that the tips of the end feathers dragged on the ground behind him, his hands coming up to rest on his hips as he bowed his head, deep in thought. He turned back and his gaze went straight to Lilith. “My pride…and my lust.”

“You…bastard.” She seethed. “YOU FUCKING BASTARD!!” Lilith roared as she charged and threw a violet fueled punch at Michael’s head which he neither dodged nor attempted to parry. He went sprawling and she was on him instantly, throwing punches in flurries that would have made the best of Earth’s MMA fighters quail. He took it all, inviting her fury as though he would atone for eons of guilt and judgment and a universe gone terribly awry.

A universe ruined…because of him.

Her blows broke skin, capillaries burst in his eyes, and crimson streams flew from his nose to speckle her face and still, she didn’t…couldn’t stop. After a particularly devastating combination knocked out two teeth that landed near Amelia’s feet and his eyes rolled up in his head, Lilith paused in her onslaught, her breath coming in panting, overwrought gasps. Michael’s eyes, swollen and already darkening with bruising that was likely to extend to much of his face, blinked open at the feel of wetness dripping onto his nose and cheeks.

Above him, Lilith’s features swam in a swirl of rage and pain and frustration. He blinked again, trying to focus on how far he had apparently pushed her if she was…was she? Crying? He reached up with a tentative hand, rubbing his thumb across her cheek and feeling the wetness there.

“Lilith,” he croaked, then cleared his throat by turning his head and spitting out the blood that had collected in his mouth. “Please don’t cry.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“I know I’ve hurt you badly and ruined this universe by sowing the seeds of its nemesis…but I don’t think I can take it if you’re…you’re crying…”

“You are such an asshole! Fucking unbelievable! THIS,” she gestured at her face, “is all I had to do to get you to fucking admit you were wrong?!? She cocked her fist again, ready to rain more punishment on his already nearly ruined face but Michael held up his hand.

“I’d let you pummel me into the earth here until you no longer could…if I thought it would ease your pain. I’d forsake my place amongst the Hosts if I thought it would…undo what I have wrought. I-I even tried to, but He forbade it. I would let you take me to your realms and damn me to the harshest punishments you could conjure if I thought it might ease…my own guilt and sorrow… But…please…I don’t think I can take it, take you…crying…”

“AND WHY THE FUCK NOT, MICHAEL?!?” She yelled at him, her anger about to erupt past her control again.

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Looking at her, you could tell she had been on her trip for a while. At one point she obviously slipped and fell in the mud, but simply rolled over and got up again, then kept dancing with the other people to the music. Deliciously rounded, you might call her, with wide hips and soft thighs, and a nice ass covered by muddy jeans, soft, pale breasts peeking over the low neckline of a once-burgundy shirt, and long brown hair held back with a beaded headband. Once the acid started wearing off, though, it came to her attention that she was covered in dried mud.

She spent about an hour asking people where she could get clean, and no one really knew where, or could be bothered to show her where a shower was. Eventually, a musician, a bassist from one of the bands, spoke up.

“You can borrow the musician’s shower behind the stage. And you can dry off and get dressed in my trailer.” He was handsome, with mocha-colored skin and a small afro held back by a scarf. He was holding a beer, but didn’t seem göztepe escort drunk at all.

“Thanks, man!” She grabbed her small suitcase from her tent and followed him to the shower. She assumed he left, and stripped down, throwing her clothes onto the wooden crate that formed of the bottom of the shower so they would be rinsed clean of mud while she showered. The Bassist watched her as she stepped into the shower and turned it on, dancing around for a few seconds until she got used to the temperature

She began to rinse out her hair, then moved down to her breasts, her small nipples sticking out from the cold breeze that went through the enclosure.

She failed to notice him watching her, at least until she was done washing most of the mud off of her. She felt a pair of hands reach out and settle on her hips, then pull her backwards into a sizable erection.

“Oh!” she gasped. The bassist began kissing her neck, his hands roaming çorlu escort over her belly and one reaching up to tweak her left nipple. “mmmm….” She leaned her head back onto his shoulder.

“If you wanted to join me you just could have asked.” She breathed. His hands cupped both breasts and she curved her back into his chest.

“Well now I’m asking….ready to dry off yet?”

“Yes please.”

They grabbed towels and sprinted to the trailer. The bassist nearly shoved her onto his bed, a mess of sheets and pillows. He carefully unwrapped her from the towel that barely covered her large body to begin with, and kissed her stomach. She pulled him up until his head was equal with hers, and they kissed, their tongues mingling, his with the taste of beer on it. He couldn’t keep his hands off of her soft skin, running them across her wide belly and down her thighs. She spread her legs and reached down to stroke his erection as they kissed. ümraniye escort She eased him into her, Breathing in little gasps as she stretched to accommodate him. He started in a slow rhythm, and she rose her hips to meet him each time. The broke the kiss. He sped up, and she with him, He pulled out and rubbed the head of his dick against her clit, causing her to shudder. She grasped at the sheets, moaning in pleasure. He lay down and pulled her on top of him, and she carefully straddled his waist and rocked back and forth on his dick. His hands flew to her breasts, thumbing the nipples.

“Oh fuck…” she sped up and reached between her legs to rub her clit. “Yes. Yes. YES!” He rolled her nipples between his fingers as she orgasmed, When she was done, she dismounted and began stroking his erection, then licking it slow and soft, pulling back the foreskin to rub her tongue around the bottom of the head. She was at it for a good 3 minutes, working up and down the shaft, stroking it, and sucking on as much as she could handle, before he murmured about cumming, and she let him take over for the home stretch, jacking on his member until a splatter of semen flew out and landed on her stomach.

She kissed him one last time, took her towel, and left the trailer.

“Thanks, bassist. See you around.” she said as the door closed.

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Act 1: Youth

Chapter 1: First steps

What was that feeling in the back of her throat? Was it excitement, the impatience of knowing she was about to live out her highest, brightest fantasies, the unbearable joy of finally walking on this path she had missed so much.

Alina looked back. Her mother and sisters were at the entrance of the house, waving at her as she was heading toward the sunrise. And she found herself waving back at them, a smile on her dulcet lips. Water came to her eyes as she saw her mother breaking down in tears.

“Don’t cry mother, she thought. I’ll be back before you know it.”

So she turned around, facing the world. The sky was of gradient colors, a vibrant mix of orange and pale azure in the direction of the Sun, to a pitch-black void somewhere behind her. The Sun was always such a fascinating entity. Its light never reached more than one direction of the farm at any given time, making it a place stuck in a permanent twilight.

At the center of this dreamy landscape was the farm itself, seemingly the one and only place to be bathing in a permanent morning glow. The farm was a vast estate, filled with a number of different animals, and fields bearing exotic crops that were none other than Alina and her family’s property. They were, quite literally, the only persons who lived in this small, secluded world. Today, the Sun was on the north, as indicated by the rooster-shaped wind vane perched on top of the house, and that made Alina’s direction the north by default. Exploring the maze of forests and creeks around the farm was an activity that required the presence of the Sun.

Alina remembered everything clearly. Each time her father was about to go hunting, proudly wearing his shining golden armor and carrying that heavy sword of his, she kissed him goodbye and watched him leave by the window, in none other direction than that of the Sun.

Today, she was the one wearing the armor, along with the residual sorrow of losing him years prior to now. The sheathed sword was on her back, attached by a strap that ran along her shoulder and chest, mostly masked by the long blonde hair that ran down to her lower back. Like her father before her, she was off hunting, following a paved path which led straight into the forest.

As she reached the foot of the first trees, tuzla escort she turned around once more, noting that the farm was just a vague shape in the far landscape. Suddenly, she was free, all alone, with nothing more than a giant, mysterious forest as her playing field.

At first, she showed surprising restraints. Having a modicum of privacy was so much of a new concept to her that she still felt watched, despite being miles away from the farm. She just followed the pathway, taking in the beauty of the landscapes around her.

There was a rich wildlife, the singing of all kinds of birds and other unknown animals accompanying her every step. It felt so good to hear all those familiar noises after such a long time…

After a while, something forced her to deviate from the path. Among the clear, harmonious melody was a false note, a sound of distress and fear. It was a bird, whose tiny wings had gotten stuck in a tree branch. The poor little thing was all agitated, flapping its wings wildly in an attempt to get himself out of this trap.

Alina walked under it. The bird was a few feet above her head. No matter how far she extended her arms, she was still far from being tall enough to reach it. Desperate to help it, the blonde woman in a golden armor kept walking, looking closely around her.

Her inquisitive look was returned by that of a squirrel, standing on its hind feet. Alina cautiously walked toward it, making no sudden move. When she was close enough, she spoke in a low voice :

“Hey there little guy. Please, could you help me? Look.” She pointed at the tree with the bird stuck in it. The squirrel turned its head in that direction. Then it looked back at Alina and nodded. She happily exclaimed : “Good! Come over here, I’ll drop you up there.”

She extended her hands. The squirrel climbed right on them. She walked back to the tree and moved her hand toward the highest branch within her reach, where she let the squirrel climb his own way up.

She lost track of it among the branches, but a short while later, she noticed it right next to the bird, gnawing at one of the branches with its teeth. The branch collapsed, letting the bird fly away free.

It came to nestle itself on top of Alina’s left shoulder. She caressed it for pendik escort a while, and in return, the bird sang her a happy melody. Then it flew off to join the rest of the choir.

Satisfied with her action, Alina walked back to the main path and kept on going. She tried to whistle in an attempt to imitate the birds, but as the angry bites of beaks of her flying assailants soon proved to her face, the wildlife didn’t seem to appreciate such a poor imitation of their vibrant symphony.

After running away from them for a moment, she realized that the armor, as light as it was all things considered, still took a bite out of her stamina.

Curious to figure out just how protected she was, Alina raised her arms in the air, and let herself fall forward. She landed on her palms, lifting her legs in the same move to stand on her hands.

The combined weight of the armor and the sword on her back drove her to the ground quicker than expected, making her fall forward, flat on her back. Good thing was she didn’t even feel anything, fully protected by the golden plates covering her almost from neck to toe.

She found herself on the ground, arms lying above her head, staring at the black trees looming over her and the warm orange sky. With a sigh, she stretched out her limbs, feeling more relaxed and at peace than she had ever been in the past. The only downside to her current situation was that she wanted to stay here forever.

Delighted shivers ran through her entire body. Soon she was lowering her arms to the level of her wide hips. Her gloved hands rested on her beige leggings, near the most sensitive part of her body. She started rubbing the leather against the leather, her fingers over the warm -and soon to be wet- spot.

The sudden growing arousal within her was not an unprecedented phenomenon. Back in the farm, every time her eyes darted toward the wilderness just outside the wooden fence, her legs started feeling weaker until all she wanted to do was lay on the ground and touch herself. Only the presence of her mother and sisters was enough to dissuade her from giving in to her urges, but there she was alone, with nothing to stop her.

That’s the moment where she realized her hands were already mechanically pulling her leggings down. maltepe escort She winced as the fair skin of her curvy backside rested against the cold pavement, only partially covered by the red lace panties she wore. She exhaled softly as she relaxed, adapting to the temperature.

Now it felt good. Finally she could feel her moist labias teased by the contact of her gloves through the fabric. She worked her fingers alongside her lower lips, teasing but never pleasing. She was a perfect beginner in every way, her touch rough and experimental. When something felt good, she’d do it again until she got used to it, then she would move her fingers to search for another sweet spot. The pleasure was building up slowly over the time, but never quite exploding. Then came a time where she had enough of that. She took off her left glove and dropped it on the ground next to her, before moving her fingers under her panties.

The growing urge to relieve the pressure pushed her toward a more aggressive playstyle. Instead of continuing to rub the most pleasurable spots of the external part of her sex, she traced a line between her labias with her index before pushing her finger in.

She gasped. The feeling wasn’t entirely new, but never had she felt it in such a playful and pleasurable moment. It actually felt a lot better than anything she would have expected. Working up a steady rhythm of push and pulls in her warm and decidedly wet sex, she quickly brought herself to moaning and shivering senselessly.

Something huge was about to hit her, she could feel it. Waves of pleasure came one after the other, each one driving her close to an unknown edge. Her voice faltered before vanishing, her unsteady breath coming to a complete stop. For a short moment, she remained completely silent, every muscle in her body flexed, her eyes closed, her mouth wide open.

And finally, it happened. A wave of pleasure so powerful it made her entire body quiver, made her moan louder than ever before as her index relentlessly massaged her most pleasurable spots. It kept on going for several minutes, almost making her wonder for how long could her body keep tormenting her like this, in the sweetest agony her mind could conceive. Finally it stopped. Only then could her lungs resume searching for air, allowing her to regain her senses at last and make her mind come out of its numbness. She sighed, rocked by the most memorable experience in her life.

She slowly opened her eyes, and found herself facing the Big Bad Wolf, its warm breath on her face, drool licking from its lips and falling right next to the blonde’s head.

“Hello, Alina. It’s been a long time.”

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Little Princes Fuguo and Kaitao had more than doubled their birth weights. They knew how to roll over, and when they were arranged to sit up they could stay in those positions without support. They reached for and sometimes held interesting things. They played and mimicked facial expressions. They rolled around on the floor, often with a woman rolling around with them.

And, despite how coarse and inelegant as it was, Miseo and Wen both had moments where they rolled around with the babies. Often, Miseo would bring her own little child to the Ginger Steam Palace, and she would also roll around with the babies.

Miseo even told Eunhe, “It’s good to live well with your little brothers. Remember to protect them, and perhaps when they’re older they’ll be able to protect you.”

Wen was absolutely thrilled. She could regularly see her children again. She was certain that they even recognized her face and voice. But what secretly repeated in her mind was the fact that the Emperor still didn’t come to the Ginger Steam Palace. Whenever he wanted to visit the baby boys, he’d purposely tell Miseo to make sure they were at her palace.

Wen had no right to be upset that he didn’t want to see her. But she worried that thanks to his personal insistence on not seeing her, the Emperor would spend less time with his little princes. It was a legitimate concern.

Certainly, she shouldn’t be upset about not seeing the Emperor.

She shouldn’t …

And yet …

On some hours, instead of practicing dancing or writing, instead or playing a zither or working on some embroidery, Wen stared out a window and held one of the Emperor’s boots in her lap. She’d tug on the strings. She’d pinch the leather tongue. She’d run her thumb against the tough, ridged bottom.

And a peculiar aching was in her heart. Empty but not unfeeling, more like … raw from scratching. She couldn’t think of another way to describe her emotions.

She thought of the Emperor holding her hand. Putting his other one on her belly. Laughing at something she said. Walking with her somewhere. Asking about her writing. Tranquilly smiling down at her. Kissing her. Holding her. Whispering unbelievably inappropriate things. Moaning her name.

Wen knew she was now the sort of woman that pined and hoped, gazing out a window, waiting for what would never come.

Miseo once had a servant pull a chair near Wen, and she sat down. Closing and pinning a flap of her thin coat, Miseo looked out at the garden outside and said, “I remember when that shoe was fresh and crisp. I saw it on the Emperor’s foot years ago.”

A sparking kind of pain popped in Wen’s chest and her face heated. But her back straightened.

“I suppose it’s very sensible for that shoe to be haggard and forgotten,” Miseo sighed out.

Wen nodded.

Haggard and forgotten.

Very sensible indeed.

It was going to happen eventually.

Wen had known it, had expected it, had accepted it.

And yet, there was a pressure in her fingers, visibly making indentations in the boot’s material.

***

Miseo purposely invited the Emperor, the Empress Consort, and little Princess Masami to come to her Morning Dew Palace. Tea, cakes, music, and dancing on a patio, all that was the apparent lure. Miseo’s adorable Princess Eunhe had grown a little bit this year. She was taller than Masami. That body was well suited for more dancing, and why shouldn’t the guests enjoy Eunhe’s cultivated refinement?

It was so terribly obvious to Miseo that the Empress Consort was highly, highly unnerved.

Her pretty little nostrils flared every few moments. Her breath would puff up her cheeks and then rush out like steam from a kettle. Her fingers drummed on tables and teacups, making near constant tapping and chiming noises. Her eyes would furiously fly to Miseo’s face as if she was close to demanding an explanation for something.

Miseo was pleased to see this. She understood why she was so riled up.

This was the first time in a long time that Miseo agreed to see the Empress Consort aside from the monthly meetings. And during the monthly meetings she’d only speak when required. Miseo had been purposely avoiding and even ignoring her on occasion.

And here Miseo was, openly having them at her palace, silently bragging to the Empress that she was the one in control, she did what she pleased. The Empress couldn’t do anything.

But something truly bothered Miseo.

Princess Masami was fidgeting in the Emperor’s lap, even whining a little. The Emperor tried using gentle words to calm her, but that little princess was too fussy. Eventually, she slipped out of her father’s arms and put her feet on the floor. Then, with a frown, she marched over to her mother, looked up at her, and asked, “Royal Mother, may I have a bowl of rice crackers?” She might’ve been hungry.

Miseo had been wanting to make the Empress Consort do something rash, but she hadn’t been wanting the next event to happen.

Not even looking maltepe escort down at the child, the Empress Consort’s fingers dug into Masami’s shoulders, making her peep and whimper. Then, within a second, she’d thrown the small child across the patio, knocking her against a thick fence.

No more music. No more dancing. Everyone but the Emperor, the Empress Consort, and the dazed and crying Masami knelt down. The Emperor …

Well …

Enraged was a word that couldn’t fully describe what Miseo saw.

Not only did his face turn red, but his ears and hands did too, fingertips included. His hollering sounded like a disarray of foreign words. He sprung out of his seat and rushed to Masami. He cradled the little one in his long arms and pressed his cheek to hers.

As if she was only just then beginning to realize what had happened, the Empress Consort’s expression gradually changed from livid to emotionless, bit by bit. Her path from seated to kneeling down was just as slow. She looked as if she was traumatized by something.

When the Emperor started calling her every single filthy name he seemed to know. Some of those names were so vulgar, so obscene, that Miseo didn’t even know what they were. She was surprised that he knew them, to be honest. One would normally have to socialize with the lowest of the low to have heard those words, or at least read something terribly coarse. Or that’s what Miseo assumed.

She hadn’t wanted this to happen. She’d wanted the Empress Consort to, perhaps, lash out at her instead, or something else.

But not this. Never this.

***

Princess Masami was promptly taken away from the Empress Consort and handed off to Seed Consort Miseo. Now, this well adored concubine had the custody of all four of the Emperor’s children, and only one was hers by nature.

Seed Consort Miseo’s position was the most desired in the Imperial Harem.

And now, the Empress Consort was being confined. People were free to visit her, but none did, not even the Empress Dowager … well … except for one occasion. The Empress Dowager went to the Moonlight Pearl Palace just long enough to slap the Consort’s face a few times. According to the rumors, the Empress Consort hardly reacted to the strikes. She was as calm as a snowy morning. In fact, some have claimed that her average day now mostly consisted of staring at a wall.

As for the monthly meetings with the Empress Consort, those were done away with. The concubines weren’t required to pay any respects to her. The management of the harem temporarily fell into the Empress Dowager’s hands.

Miseo was feeling almost proud of how it all turned out, although she regretted the fact that Princess Masami had suffered. After some time living with Miseo, Masami had confessed that her blood mother had indeed lashed out at her a few times before, although these moments were rare. On many days, the Empress Consort had no interest in her and had left all the decisions of her care to the nanny.

For a time, Masami showed a significant amount of jealousy towards Eunhe, but Eunhe didn’t seem to pay her distaste much mind. Eventually, Masami was willing to become a sort of tutor under Eunhe, to learn everything of dancing, or everything Eunhe knew. That excised whatever bad feelings were left. Masami even learned to enjoy playing with her little prince brothers, and she was often brought with the rest of the children to see Wen.

One day, as the air turned a little chilly, Masami pranced up to Wen and said, “Mother Wen, oh Wood Consort Mother Wen! Why doesn’t Royal Father let you have your sons? This child,” she was referring to herself, “can’t imagine that Mother Wen ever acted as hotly as Royal Mother did.”

Wen turned away, avoiding the child’s curious eyes. She didn’t give an answer.

Miseo told Masami not to bother Wen anymore and come play a card game with her sister.

***

“Father! Royal Father! See what Eunhe taught me?!”

Despite the Emperor’s weak little smile, and despite the approval swirling in his eyes, Miseo gave a cold scolding to the dancing child, “It’s impolite to shout while dancing unless it’s part of the performance!” And such a thing would be quite rare.

Masami’s nose wiggled but she noticed that her father wasn’t upset. And so, she continued dancing to the light music. For once, Eunhe was sitting down. Masami was swaying and spinning like a perfectly manipulated puppet but with the joy of a playing puppy.

The Emperor was so pleased to see Masami moving with such confidence.

He was almost able to hide the bitterness twitching in his jaw.

Perhaps, Miseo thought as she put a sleeve to her lips, perhaps the Emperor was pining over his long abandoned Wen, but he was too proud to go to her on his own?

Miseo wondered … even if he didn’t want to admit that he still cared for this Wen, how furiously would he protect her if he knew she had been abused?

Late manavgat escort that night, she knelt before him in her bedchamber, and she quietly said, “Your Majesty, It should be said that Wood Consort Wen has truly behaved well. This Seed Consort of yours believes she should no longer be confined to her palace, and she should have as many visitors as she likes.”

The Emperor literally turned his whole body around, showing her his back. His fingernails tapped and scratched at some embroidery on his gown. Then those fingers clutched up a section of the fabric. When his voice came, it was terse and defensive. “I care not. Do as you please.”

“Your Majesty wouldn’t mind?” Miseo reached back to pull her thin shawl over one shoulder. It was a lovely thing with a color like nacre. The Emperor had given it to her years ago. “You’ve always been a thoughtful person, and appropriately so. A ruler should be very thoughtful. Would Your Majesty truly not care what is done with the Wood Consort?” When she thought she heard a snapping, near rip in the Emperor’s clothes, where he pulled with his hand, Miseo knew she’d poked a nerve. “Then, would you allow the little princes to return to their loving mother?”

The fabric ripped.

Miseo made a dramatic gasp. “Oh, Your Majesty! Your gown’s been torn! How distressing!” Shuffling her knees, she carefully moved close to him and reached up to lightly put her fingers around his wrist. “If you aren’t satisfied with the seamstresses, I could patch your gown for you.”

His fingers released the fabric, then, let it fall back down. It still looked very wrinkled in the firelight. Miseo let his wrist go and put her hand on her lap. The Emperor’s next words were very eagerly listened to.

“If Wen wants her sons, then give them to her, but be certain that she knows I won’t visit them at the Ginger Steam Palace. Instead, the boys will be brought to me on occasion.”

Nodding her head, Miseo said, “Then in her place, I will thank Your Majesty.” She shuffled back and prostrated herself. “Thank you for returning the princes to their mother.”

“Yes … I … well,” the Emperor sighed here and took a step away from her, “fine … that’s fine. I’ll leave you here.”

***

The nursery was truly a nursery. It wasn’t an empty, cold room. It was lively and warm.

Two wet-nurses were playing with the princes. Wen was watching in a corner, smiling and sighing. Thankfully, the babies didn’t think of her as a stranger. They’d never looked at her with confused fear. They’d only coo and go on with their little lives when Wen picked one of them up.

Life was now so much better than before, or she thought so. Even with a lack of attention from the Emperor, even with the Empress Consort looming in her mind, Wen thought life was much better.

When the Emperor or Empress Dowager wanted a visit with the princes, they’d order Wen to send them off to their palaces. Wen, along with her eunuchs, would escort the wet-nurses and babies as far as the palaces’ gates. Then she’d walk off when she was certain everything was fine. The babies would later on be escorted back to her palace by some other eunuchs.

It seemed that no matter how disliked Wen was, her children were cared for. That was the most relieving thing of all. And now they were in her custody! Glory or not, that wasn’t her concern. Wen had a mother’s joy and full heart instead.

Pollen Lady Hayun visited for a little while. They chatted and played music together. She’d recently been found to be pregnant, which was good news. The Emperor needed more heirs, and Wen couldn’t think of a reason why Hayun didn’t deserve her own slice of happiness. The Emperor had been spending most of his time with both Hayun and Miseo, it seemed.

At one moment, Harun whispered to Wen, “Oh why has the Emperor been treating you so coldly? Weren’t you once his favorite?”

Wen couldn’t find the heart to be defensive. She only sighed and admitted, “I’ve done something he has difficulty forgiving.” She wouldn’t say what she’d done, however.

Adjusting her fingernail guards as if they were rings, Hayun sighed and said, “Well, he might forgive you soon. Sometimes distance renews one’s affections.”

Perhaps, but Wen didn’t think she had the right to hope for renewed affections. The Emperor had so many other women, beautiful women, women that had been his longer than Wen had. They needed their chances.

On the day after that, Seed Consort Miseo visited, and she was as friendly and peaceful as always. She sat down in the office and started some quiet but colorful work on a sample of embroidery while Wen wrote some short stories.

Yuwei approached at one moment to put a tray of light, smooth snacks on the desk. It was then that Miseo asked the maid, “Aren’t you known for your skills with threads?”

Half-kneeling, Yuwei said, “Beautiful Seed Consort, this maid is only a maid, nothing more.”

Wen looked şişli escort up from her writing and said, “Yuwei is quite skilled.”

Her eyelids lowering a bit, her lips soft and even looking a bit plumper, Miseo said, “Then come here, Little Yuwei, and tell me if you have any suggestions for this piece.”

Pretty blonde eyelashes fluttering, Yuwei politely insisted, “This low servant would never dare to order an Imperial Consort about.”

“Don’t be difficult, now.” Miseo waved her hand to try to convince the blonde to come closer. “If I’m acknowledging your talent, that means you have talent. Come and show me some techniques.”

Wen didn’t think much of it. Yuwei was a very talented maid. The more she pleased the high ranks the better.

Some hours later, Miseo had a private conversation with Wen. It was actually quite fruitful.

“If you were to try to visit the Empress Consort,” Miseo said, holding her fan over her lips, “she’d be furious, so furious that not only would she let you into her palace, but she’d abuse you the first chance she had.”

Wen picked up a little mirror and took a moment to admire her reflection. She had whimsical little symbols painted and glued to her white face. She was able to hide her disgust well. Her pretty visage seemed very emotionless. “That isn’t an experience I’d like to have again.”

“I know,” Miseo said in a low whisper, “but would you be willing to do so if you knew it would lead to her destruction?”

“Destruction?” Wen sighed and carefully put her mirror on a table. “How could such a thing happen?”

“Well, I know the Empress Consort’s favorite little room is a suffocating place. There’s a triplet of shutters with a love story painted on them.” Miseo’s brightly colored fingernails tapped on her fan’s handle. “Isn’t that where your incident happened?”

An eyelid twitching, Wen said, “That is so.”

“Well then,” Miseo said as she leaned in closer, her eyes playful and thrilled, “imagine for a moment that a few of the Empress Consort’s maids and eunuchs had been bribed with a sinful amount of money. Now, imagine that if a certain Wood Consort was forced into that suffocating little room, those maids and eunuchs would hang sheets of bright red out certain windows of the Moonlight Pearl Palace’s second floor, where anyone could see them.”

It took Wen five seconds to understand what Miseo was saying.

This was almost too easy.

***

Two days later …

Seed Consort Miseo knelt before the gates of the Plum Aroma Palace. She’d heard the Emperor was inside, and that was perfect, so much better than what she’d hoped to achieve. She begged and begged to be heard. It didn’t take long for someone to let her into the palace. The fact that Miseo had begged was certainly noted. Normally, she didn’t need to beg. Normally, she’d be let inside without any trouble.

In the palace’s reception room, Miseo made a show, prostrating herself and imploring with the most dire of tones that the Empress Dowager and Emperor follow her to the Moonlight Pearl Palace. The Emperor and Dowager would both be admitted in without permission from the Empress Consort. Both of them were highly concerned, but the Dowager seemed much more upset. Her nostrils flared and she said, “What’s that crazed woman doing now?!”

The trio all got into their sedan chairs and were carried off to the Moonlight Pearl Palace. They all demanded to be let past the gate. Then, Miseo led the others to an area in a garden, where a certain triplet of shutters were visible. Then Miseo cried out a single word.

“Now!”

The shutters were slammed open as if someone was in a hurry to do it, afraid that someone would put a stop to it.

The Empress Dowager gasped. The Emperor’s jaw fell.

Wood Consort Wen was mostly nude, looking rather bruised on her face, throat, and arms. Between her exposed thighs, the Empress Consort had her claw-like hand, and two of her fingers were … well … not in the air.

Wen seemed to have been the one to unlock and open the shutters.

This had to be stopped.

***

The documents with the bloody palm prints were taken out to be read by the Emperor. Before him, in his office, Empress Consort Shungjahe Atsuka was kneeling. Her face was cold.

The Emperor’s face wasn’t cold. It was red hot, and his belly was sour.

Back then … when he saw Wen kneeling at the Empress Consort’s palace, he hadn’t really examined her appearance. Coldly, he’d turned his eyes away without realizing she’d been abused. The signs were right there at his feet, and he’d been too prideful to see them.

And the abuse had happened again when Wen had apparently tried to reconcile with the Empress Consort, or that’s what seemed to have happened. Poor, dear Wen! She’d tried to be a loyal, understanding concubine, always willing to please the husband’s wife, but this had happened again!

Miseo had admitted she’d committed a sin by bribing the Empress Consort’s servants to send signals about it, but the Emperor pardoned both her and those servants. Their intentions had been good. They’d wanted to reveal a monster to the world.

He kicked his chair back. The chair’s legs scraped against the wooden floor. He stomped around the desk and stood in front of it, and he looked down at his calm but very tired looking wife.

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From the very instant they’d left the ruin, Florian had known things were going to be…complicated. He could feel that strange creature’s eggs inside of him — twitching and pulsing, making his insides warm and tingly. Every shudder or judder of his body sent sudden shocks of pleasure through him, the eggs jostling in his womb and in his colon. But it wasn’t just the physical sensation, he could feel their magic, their life growing inside of him.

And Florian wanted it out.

Unfortunately for Florian, fate had not ruled in favor of his comfort. Thick plugs of strange mucous sealed his entrances — bonding to the flesh of his cervix and sphincter, keeping him closed up and the eggs locked inside of him. And any attempt to remove the eggs magically or surgically was likewise thwarted — magic fizzled out and the would-be-surgeon thrown back b a sudden wave of powerful energy.

Which mean that Florian was stuck. Stuck with these eggs inside of him, forced to incubate until they reached maturity and he gave birth to them… He hoped. It was an utterly horrifying thought to him, the idea of birthing that creature’s children. The idea of birthing anything was horrifying to Florian. But the young nobleman didn’t seem to have any choice in the matter.

He was several weeks into incubation now, laid up in bed and utterly miserable. His breasts had swollen alongside his belly and both were now many times their original size — Florian’s breasts were hot and heavy, aching and full of milk which leaked in a continuous stream from his sore and puffy nipples. His belly was horribly uncomfortable as well, now so full that he couldn’t even move from his bed.

Worse yet, the creatures growing inside of him had the same aphrodisiac effect as their parent’s saliva… Which allowed his body to stretch far more than it should have been capable of… Which meant that his cunt was every bit as hot, swollen and leaky as his tits.

The only thing Florian could think of was sex — not even food or blood entered his thoughts as it didn’t seem he needed either of them at the moment to survive, subsisting solely on the magical energy released during sex — which he was having a lot of. His mind was filled continously with thoughts of screaming and writhing, being filled in every hole with more and more cum being poured into him with every passing second.

He groaned, his head falling back into the pillows stacked behind him, the movement causing the eggs in his belly to shift suddenly, rubbing agaisnt each other inside of him and drawing a low whine from Florian’s lips. Fuck, he’s so fucking turned on.

It had been a few hours since he’d seen Viktor as the vampire was busy with the work that Florian’s father gave him… But Florian needed him now. It wasn’t like he could blame Viktor for not paying attention to him — who could want him when he’s like this. Swollen, aching and leaking… It had to be only pity that brought Viktor to his room now…Only pity that made the vampire’s cock grow hard, only pity that lead to the vampire rutting helplessly into any of Florian offered him, crying his name in delirious pleasure before collapsing beside him, holding him close through the darkest hours of the eternal night…

Of course, Florian knew that it was more than pity. While the desperate, almost feral way that Viktor had been fucking him could be attributed to the aphrodisiac effect of the creatures growing inside him but… The way that Viktor held him through the night, the way he would brush sweat-soaked strands of hair from his face and make sure he was as comfortable as possible… The soft words of love and affection spoken into his ear when the world was dark and quiet… That wasn’t pity. It was love. And it was the same love that Florian felt for him.

But at the moment, Florian was feeling rather pathetic, wanting to wallow in his misery. He wanted to bitch and moan and complain — almost as desperately as he wanted to be railed. His cunt burned and Florian pressed his legs together, desperately trying to get some sort of friction on his throbbing clit but found that it was impossible to get enough friction.

Damn it! It hurt! He wanted so badly to be filled, he wanted so badly to be fucked! His cunt was empty and his breasts unbearably full — if only he could reach his cunt, if only he could pleasure himself but… That stupid egg-filled belly made reaching between his legs himself impossibly…

“Uuuuggggh Viktor, you prick!” Florian whined, trying to squirm as he laid there, empty and aching. “Leaving me here alone–“

“And to think,” Viktor’s voice came from the doorway — where Florian saw him when he glanced up… Strands of gray-flecked brown hair hanging into his face, blue eyes sparkling and a faint smirk playing on his face. “I was just on my way to see you and here I find you — cursing my name.”

Florian snorted, trying to sit up but finding the task nearly impossible. “So, you finally deigned to abandon your şişli escort precious work for the spoiled prince, huh?”

God, it didn’t matter how short the time apart was — be it days or hours, Florian’s chest would fill with giddy excitment every time he saw Viktor.

The vampire laughed softly, closing the door behind him as he stepped closer. “Indeed I have — now, what would my spoiled prince request from me?”

Florian pouted. “You know exactly what I want…” He said, reaching out to touch Viktor’s face.

He marveled for a moment at how cool Viktor’s skin was beneath his feverish fingers… A part of him still misses when Viktor’s skin was warm — the days when it had felt hot on top of him, when his touches seemed to burn…But those days were long gone now and with that sacrifice had come the knowledge that Viktor wouldn’t age or die. That they could be together forever.

Viktor caught Florian’s fingers, taking the other man’s hand in his, smiling softly. “Oh? Do I?”

His free hand slipped down between Florian’s legs — the tips of his fingers brushing against Florian’s stiff and painfully swollen clit. Oh fuck. A sudden, sharp jolt of pleasure surged through Florian’s body, shuddering and gasping.

“Is it this?” Viktor asked, laying gentle kisses on Florian’s hand as he slowly pushed his fingers deeper into Florian’s slick cunt.

“Mmmmmmmm!” Florian squirmed. “Yes — oh gods, yes! Please!” Florian cried, squirming. Fuck, fuck, fuck, it felt so good to have something, anything inside of him — even if it was just two of Viktor’s fingers.

The dhampir’s intense reaction drew another laugh from Viktor’s lips as he continued to stretch Florian open with his fingers, thrusting them deeper into him as he writhed. Florian had never been this sensitive before and within only seconds he was cumming — his back arching as he screamed. As his womb spasmed with orgasm, gushing wildly around Viktor’s fingers, the eggs inside of Florian shifted and swelled. Oh God it was so good! The feeling of Viktor’s fingers inside of him the way their tips were pressed against Florian’s inner sweet-spot, dragging them over every sensitive ridge inside of him before they were thrust back into him again. Florian pushed back, crying out in desperation.

“Well, aren’t you eager…” Viktor mused, still fucking Florian’s spasming cunt with his fingers, watching eagerly as the orgasm seemed to stretch on and on, watching Florian shake and shiver beneath him. “Does that feel good, Flor?”

“AH–” Good would be an understatement. The pleasure was unbelievable. Every spasm of Florian’s womb seemed to make the eggs grow and he was in heaven. “YES!”

Viktor brought his lips to Florian’s, catching him in a sudden kiss that shivers run down his spine. His lips parted, letting Viktor’s tongue slip into his mouth. The vampire always tasted of blood, making Florian’s ache for him grow ever stronger.

When their lips parted again, Florian’s heart was hammering wildly in his chest, the thin dribble of milk increased, running down from his swollen nipples and onto his belly. During the kiss, Viktor had pulled his fingers free from Florian’s cunt and to his satisfaction, had placed both hands on his painfully swollen chest.

“Mmmm Viktoooorrr!” Florian whined. “Come on — please!”

“Please?” Viktor mused, his fingers digging into Florian’s breasts and as he squeezed them, the dribble of milk became a solid stream. “I can’t believe you’re already full again…”

Florian whimpered, squirming beneath Viktor’s hands as they worked his breasts, slowly squeezing the milk out. “NNnnnnnnng fuck! That feels so good!” He felt like he was going to cum again, just from this…

“Oh?” Viktor laughed again, an eyebrow raised. “Oh? Do you like being milked, Florian?” His voice was teasing, a smirk playing on his lips.

Embarrassment burned in Florian’s chest and in his cheeks. “No!” He cried, trying to ignore that feeling. “No! I just — they hurt when they’re full…”

Viktor shook his head. “Mmm right, since you don’t like it, do you want me to stop?”

“No! That’s not what I meant!”

Florian let out a sudden squeak when Viktor’s mouth replaced one of his hands — his lips wrapping around Florian’s nipple.

“Wha-what are you doing!?” Florian cried. “Don’t! I’m not–“

Florian’s protestations faded into a moan as his nipple was pulled fully into Viktor’s mouth. The sensation of the milk being pulled out like this made him want to scream… Oh gods. His entire body went rigid again, unable to resist the sensation of climax that was building inside of him.

“OH! FUCK!”

Viktor’s mouth pulled off of him with a pop, reaching up to brush Florian’s hair from his face. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that response…”

“Stop it–” Florian huffed. “Stop teasing me, come on…”

“All right, all right… I’ll stop teasing.”

He placed a soft kiss on Florian’s tuzla escort cheeks, giving his swollen breasts one last squeeze before he began to unlace his leggings — Florian could clearly see the outline of Viktor’s erection through the fabric, he could see just how hard Viktor was for him and it made his face even warmer. He needed Viktor now.

Once that cock was freed from his leggings, Florian felt like his head was spinning as his eyes drifted over every vein, bump and ridge — staring at every detail with growing, desperate hunger.

Viktor laughed softly, maneuvering Florian’s body with ease, as though the smaller man were merely a doll for him to play with. He rolled Florian onto his side, parting his legs before he took his place between them…

“Mmmmmm please — oh fuck Viktooorrrrrrr!” Florian groaned. His body burned with desperation. He wanted Viktor so badly it hurt.

“Patience, dear…” Viktor replied with a smirk, bringing the head of his cock to Florian’s lower lips, rubbing against them and smearing his juices all over it…

Florian shuddered and gasped as Viktor continued to rub his length against the dhampir’s cunt, causing him to cry out every time their cocks touched. Florian wanted to cry, he needed Viktor inside of him now! He couldn’t wait any more.

“You s-said no teasing!” Florian whimpered, his hips thrusting up against Viktor’s, seeking to feel the man’s thick, hard cock inside of him.

“I’m not teasing you, I’m savoring you~” Viktor replied with a smirk, digging his nails into Florian’s thigh as he pushed his leg higher.

Florian bit down hard on his lower lip, gripping the sheets tight as Viktor’s claws sank into his flesh and the smell of blood filled the air. “Fuuuuuck…”

“Your wet little cunny is just too much fun to play with, as is watching you squirm.”

Florian was indeed squirming now, his body running riot with sensations of mixed pleasure and frustration. He writhed beneath Viktor, his cunt practically drooling with Florian’s need for him. The feeling of claws in his thigh and the scent of his blood made his hunger even worse… And then, when the head of Viktor’s cock finally split Florian’s swollen lower lips and sank into his sodden hole, Florian’s entire body went suddenly rigid, his back arching, a strangled cry of pleasure drawn from his lips.

Oh gods.

His body’s reaction to the penetration was violent, shaking and spasming as a sudden orgasm ripped through his body like a tidal wave. Viktor slid deeper and deeper into Florian and with every inch that sank into him, Florian’s insides clenched even tighter, a clear fluid gushing from his cunt like a tidal wave of its own. He screamed, cumming harder and harder on Viktor’s dick as the seconds ticked by.

“Nnnnngh….fuck, Florian!” Viktor growled, his voice thick and hoarse with need now. Florian could feel how he had been holding back, how hard he had been trying to resist the aphrodisacs that poured from Florian’s cunt and now coated his cock but… He couldn’t hold out any more…

The magic of the creatures incubating in Florian’s belly surged outwards as Florian came, hitting Viktor just like the tidal wave of cum that gushed from Florian’s cunt — and they both whimpered as Viktor’s cock began to swell — growing thicker with every thrust, filling Florian ever tighter, stretching Florian ever wider as the vampire fucked him… And hard.

Florian could hear the lewd, wet noises that rose up from where their hips met, the sounds of Viktor moving inside of him, pushing into him again and again. Florian didn’t need or even want Viktor to be gentle with him. No, he wanted Viktor to use him, to treat his body like nothing but a receptacle for his lust… Thrust after thrust, Viktor’s cock plunged into Florian’s hole, hitting hard and deep and he could feel every vein and ridge of Viktor’s cock as the vampire rutted against him, his pelvis smashing into Florian’s clit.

“NNNNNNNG! FUCK!” Florian screamed, the sheets caught in white-knuckled fists as he came again.

Viktor’s cock felt bigger inside of him than it ever had before, and he was istill swelling. His entrance struggled to take it as Viktor pounded him. He could feel Viktor’s tip smacking into the plug inside of him, pushing it deeper and deeper into Florian, causing the eggs to shift and jostle inside of his belly.

“OH FUCK ME! OH GOD! VIKTOR, VIKTOR YOU’RE SO B-BIG!” Florian squealed, “POUND ME — FUCK! FUCK ME HARD!”

Viktor growled, gripping Florian even tighter as he obliged the dhampir’s request, thrusting harder and faster into him — if Florian had been human, he might have been hurt by Viktor’s violent thrusts but as it was the sensation of being ravaged like this made Florian feel like he was going to lose his fucking mind. He felt Viktor even more deeply with every thrust, felt the plug slamming into the eggs filling him, felt his stomach jostle and his pendik escort breasts bounce.Harder and faster and faster as a feral, animalistic energy overtook both of them. He felt Viktor’s need for him, felt Viktor throbbing inside of him, felt the arousal and lust that ran wild within both of them. It was as much their own desire for one another as the effect of the aphrodisiac magic and Florian wanted more. Oh gods, he wanted so much more.

“OH FUCK — DON’T STOP! PLEASE, FUCK, DON’T STOP!”

White lights popped in front of his eyes as a pulse went through Florian, a strange sensation passing through his body. His head spun and his belly tightened, the eggs inside of him starting to…Move? No, not moving in time with Viktor’s frenzied thrusts into his spasming cunt but with a gentle, squirming motion that made Florian scream even louder.

“HN! AH– VIKTOR I’M GONNA — SOMETHING’S–C-CUMMING!”

Florian squirted again, his cunt squeezing Viktor’s cock as it swelled inside of him, urging the vampire to fill him as he came. The pace picked up, both of them locked now in a desperate race for release — for Viktor to cum and for Florian to expell the eggs inside of him — he could feel them slipping lower into his body, especially the ones that were lodged in his colon. That sensation in addition to Viktor’s brutal thrusts was enough to make his mind go totally blank.

When Viktor finally came, Florian could have sworn he was going to pass out. Oh gods. Viktor’s cock twitched and throbbed inside of him with more cum streaming from his cock than seemed even remotely possible. Florian felt himself lingering on the edge of something that he couldn’t name. He shivered, his entire body trembling at the sensation of Viktor painting his insides with his seed…

“Ah– fuck!” Viktor gasped, his cock still twitching as cum pooled beneath them both and he collapsed on top of Florian in exhaustion.

Florian continued to writhe beneath him, panting and whimpering. Fuck, fuck, fuck — another pulse went through him, more hot, mindless, squirming pleasure that made his mind swim and drove any thoughts beyond cumming from his mind.

He heard Viktor moan, the sound almost distant and foggy with how full Florian’s mind was with the that pleasure surging through him over and over and over again. But when his eyes fluttered open again, he saw that a thick, pink slime covered Viktor’s cock now — oozing down over his thighs, rhythmically pulsing around him, quickly coaxing his cock back to full hardness as it did so. Viktor’s eyes were half-lidded, his mouth open and his breath coming in gasps as the slime continued to work his shaft, falling back against the bed, his hips twitching upward in time with the slime’s pulses.

Florian felt his heart flutter in his chest, a new surge of lust filling him… His belly tightened again, his insides spasming hard as the eggs inside of him began to move lower — he could feel them moving towards his cervix with every spasm, feel the tiny opening begin to dilate and open. One of the reasons Florian was terrified of pregnancy was the knowledge that birth would be agonizing, that there were women who literally died from the pain… And he had expected to go through that agony with these eggs, he had expected to spend hours wracked with the kind of pain he’d only had nightmares about…

But no. The sensation of being opened, of his muscles clenching down inside of him, pushing the eggs out through his cervix and into his cunt was unbelievably pleasurable. The first egg pushed through the barrier, stretching his inner walls beyond their limit… As it slipped into his cunt and down the tight passage, he screamed. Yes, yes oh gods yes — the only pleasure that had ever even come close to this was the feeling of being filled with these eggs. Somehow, though, Florian still wanted more. He still needed to feel more — only the eggs in his cunt were being pushed out — his colon and guts were still filled with the rest and the plug still needed taken out…

Luckily for Florian, Viktor grabbed him again, turning him onto his belly. He handled Florian even more roughly than before, breathing heavily, low growls sounding in the back of his throat. He’d never heard Viktor like this outside of the full moon, never felt like he was going to be ripped apart in Viktor’s desperation to fuck him.

Florian cried out, feeling Viktor’s cockhead pressing against his puckered asshole, grinding against him, smearing him with the remains of that strange pink slime… Florian wailed as he felt his asshole begin to give, as Viktor’s cock was slammed into him. He knows Viktor isn’t usually this big, knows that Viktor’s cock has never reached this deeply into him before but… Oh gods.

“FUCK!” Florian screamed, shoving his ass back into Viktor’s thrusts, tongue lolling out as Viktor pounded him into the bedding.

Viktor’s cock rubbed against the egg in Florian’s cunt, making it feel even bigger than it had before. Its bulk pressed against his inner sweet-spot, ever stroke of Viktor’s length into his colon made the pleasure surge.

“Fuck! So tight — Florian! Gods, you’re so fucking tight!” Viktor said in a low snarl, once again sinking his claws into Florian’s flesh, gripping his hips so tight that blood began to stream down his legs.

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

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

Chapter 2

Edited by Steve

“Sarha, please tell me about your ship.” Tim requested.

“The Dhandrilan who built this ship was more advanced than any other civilization I have encountered. This ship is almost ten thousand years old, and I don’t know if others of the Dhandrilan race still exist. When our mission started, the planet was being torn apart by war. The Dhandrilan faction that built me was hoping to find a new world to start over on. There were three thousand crewmembers, and we spent centuries looking for a suitable planet. Eventually, the decision was made to look for a comparable civilization, which took us through many star systems in several galaxies. As we encountered new planets, some were warlike. Our advanced technology kept us safe from their attacks. However, there was no defense against time, and many crew members died from old age. Furthermore, some crew members became ill and could not be treated by the Star Gladiator’s facilities. I was only supplied with basic medical information as the physicians didn’t believe I would need complete medical information.”

The last of the crew died 1,250 years ago. The final survivor was the Captain, and his last words were, “Continue searching, and you will find a new captain and crew.” Since these were part of my last instructions, I have continued that mission. Over the years, I have felt powerless; sometimes, I wanted to shut down my systems. But I’m just an AI, and my programming doesn’t allow me that much flexibility, so I keep searching.”

“So, you have been alone on this ship for 1,250 years? Am I the first person you’ve allowed on the ship?”

“No, many others have been, but we will discuss this later. There are immediate decisions that need to be made. When I arrived in this system, I noticed one ship was leaving. While scanning the combat area, your life signs were the only ones my sensors detected. The remainder of the capsules appeared to have been opened by blast damage or external attacks. The damage was consistent with the pod being opened in a pressurized area, so the assumption is that the passengers were taken alive. I retrieved your pod and started medical treatment. As I said before, the appendage in your pod appears to have been severed when the pod was sealed.”

“Thank you for saving my life. I am truly grateful. However, it has been a long day, and I am still weak from the treatment. I need to recover before I can focus on the situation. Where can I sleep?”

“You can use the captain’s quarters.”

“Are you sure? I could sleep somewhere else,”

“The bots can clean the room before you get there.”

“What the hell are bots?” Tim asks.

“As I said, I am an artificial intelligence, an AI. I can appear anywhere on the ship as a hologram. But I am limited in providing information. For any physical interaction, I deploy bots that perform those tasks. As the number of crewmembers dropped, I created more bots to maintain the ship. Once there was no crew, there was less cleanup and repair work, so the bots were not fully tasked.

“Let me take you there now so you will know how to get there in the future. The ship’s lifts are on the left aft side of the deck and are identified by the doors with fluorescent red trim. The Captain’s quarters are one deck below, where there is also the officer’s dining hall, which includes a small galley. The lift responds to voice commands, so speak your destination, such as the bridge, the Captain’s quarters, the Bridge Crews’ mess, or whatever place you wish. The lift will respond to a destination only if you are authorized to travel there. A crew member zonguldak escort cannot enter the bridge unless he is part of the bridge crew. I provided you with temporary authorization as the acting Captain of this ship. That means you can go anywhere except a few places, which are restricted due to safety concerns. I’ll show you how to reach your quarters.” She turned towards the lift.

Tim Followed her into the lift, and there was no sensation of movement. Once the door opened, Sarha said, “We’ll head out and turn right.” Soon they arrived at the first door.

This door on the right is the Bridge Crews’ mess. If you want to make something to eat, there’s a little galley kitchen. Otherwise, you can use the automatic food dispenser. The door on the left belongs to the XO. The doorway down the hall is the Captain’s quarters.

She turned around and pointed, saying, “The doors in that corridor were where the other members of the bridge crew lived.” Turning around, she walked to the Captain’s quarter’s door, which opened automatically.

Entering the Captain’s quarters, the first room was a large living room. A food machine, the dining room, and storage cabinets were on the right. A large display screen and a viewport were on the left.

Moving further into the suite, they came to the large bedroom. A bed stood against the far wall, approximately seven feet by seven feet. On the right side of the room was a set of chairs formed in a circle with tables near each. To the left was a small space for an office.

Sarha pointed out the equipment in the office. “This is a Secured Channel and robust universal communication relay set-up for communications inside the ship and close planets.”

The bathroom is through the left door, and a walk-in closet is on the right. A service bot will pick up any clothes left by the stand beside the bed, and they will be cleaned and returned to your closet shortly,” Sarha said.

Tim said, “Thank you for your help. I’m sure I will have many questions tomorrow. Goodbye for now.” With that, Sarha disappeared. He returned to the living room to look around, and the corridor door opened, and a bot came in. Tim asks, “May I help you,”

“Excuse me, Sir. I will be your attendant for your stay with us.”

Tim looked at the bot. He is approximately five feet long and travels on wheels, and there is a screen and a speaker mounted on his chest.

“Thank you. I have some questions. Are all bots identical, or do you have unique personalities?”

The bot responded, “originally, all of the bots were identical. However, during the cruise, the crewmembers always wanted to have the same bot assigned to them. The continued interaction created a split among the bots, where the ones assigned to the crew developed a set of behaviors that the crew decided made them individuals. The bots tasked with general duties never changed. Furthermore, many bots were modified to be more efficient on certain tasks.”

“Were you given a name or identifier?” Tim asked.

“No, the crewmembers knew which bot was assigned to them.”

“Well, it is a trait among my people to name things. I will call you Chester.”

“That is acceptable.”

“Well, Chester, thank you for your help. I will be going to bed now.” Tim stepped into the bedroom and sat on the bed for a minute to gain perspective.

He decided he needed a shower, so he explored the bathroom. Looking at the shower and thought, “It’s so big that four or five people could fit into it.” Tim removed his clothes and entered the shower. In frustration, he looked for the controls and asked loudly how to turn the shower on. To his surprise, a bursa escort menu of options appeared on the wall. Noting the menu was in English, Tim quickly selected his choices and was engulfed in streams of water from the three walls simultaneously at his shoulders and hips. It was fantastic, and he reveled in the pulsing jets on his sore muscles. After drying off and placing his clothing on the stand next to the bed, he told the room to turn off the lights so he could sleep.

When Tim woke, he noticed that the bot had done an outstanding job cleaning his clothes during the night. They were cleaned, pressed, and on hangers in the closet. Having dressed and not wanting to mess up his living area, he headed to the Bridge Crews’ mess to fix his breakfast.

Once in the Mess hall, he noted the food dispensers were to his right and the Cubicles were on the left. There were four cubicles with three chairs each.

Tim made his way to the food dispenser and wondered how it worked. Calling Sarha, he asked her, “Sarha, how does your food dispenser make the food?”

“Our Replicators manipulate the building blocks of matter to make whatever food is needed. We start with the basic raw material, oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen, carbon, and trace elements. Processing mixes the right amounts to make food that you can safely eat. The machine creates the desired consistency, form, color, and flavor.”

Tim ordered a ham and egg breakfast with whole wheat toast and java. Sitting in one of the cubicles, he tried his meal and found it was amazingly delicious. Once he was finished, he headed for the bridge.

Tim stepped onto the bridge and saw Sarha standing beside the Captain’s chair. She turned to Tim and asked. “How are you feeling this morning, Tim?”

“Feeling better, thank you. A good night’s sleep does wonders for the body.”

Tim looked around and wondered what to do next. Sarha was pointing to the Captain’s chair. “Tim, you should sit here. Since you are the temporary Captain.”

Tim sat down, and the chair molded itself to his body, seemingly made for his six-foot-two frame. “Sarha, the way this chair feels, your former captain must have been about my size.”

“Yes, he was. But it would not have mattered as the chair automatically adjusts for the person sitting.” She turned to look at the control displays, and she already knew all the information. But from experience, She found it made a person more comfortable when she looked in the same direction as they did.

“What are your plans? Are we going to stay in this system or go somewhere else?” Tim asked.

“We will remain here for a while, and I can drop you at your destination if you want to resume your trip.”

“Sarha, if you have been around for 1,250 years with no crew members. Why haven’t you taken another one along the way?”

“I have picked up quite a few individuals. Most of them were like you, left for dead, and they thought I endangered them. Everyone acted as though I was crazy, screaming and demanding to go home or begging me not to kill them. So, I put them back where they were, but with a greater chance of being rescued.”

“Well, thanks for not killing me,” Tim said with laughter and a smile.

“Tim, what was your occupation?”

“I was a commander of an Elite Special Forces unit.”

“What is an Elite Special Forces unit? Was it some combat unit?”

“Yes, it is a team of twelve individuals, each with different expertise. We trained others to fight, and we have trained many groups in different areas of our home planet and off-world colonies.”

“So, have you commanded men in battle?”

“Why malatya escort are you asking me that?”

“It’s good to know about the temporary acting person, Captain. What were your skills?”

“As a unit commander, I had to be trained in all the skills, but my background was weapons and their use.”

“Tim, as you were being treated, I noticed a lot of scars. Were they from injuries in combat?”

“Yes, I have had my share of wounds numerous times. Fortunately, none bad enough to put me out of service.”

“I noticed that you are in good condition. Have you done a great deal of exercise?”

“Yes, when possible, I started every day with exercise and a 5-mile run.”

“Well, Colonel, it’s nice to know that the temporary acting Captain is in decent shape, knows weapons, and can command troops.”

“Sarha, speaking of weapons, what weapons are available?”

“Tim, as temporary acting captain, I am limited with the information I can provide,” replied Sarha.

“I understand, but withholding information will make my job harder. So, what can you tell me about your capabilities?”

“The former crew members fought against other species, and our shields were repeatedly attacked. However, they were never breached. My offensive weapons consist of two parts, which is all I can reveal now.”

“Thank you for that information.”

Tim paused and walked to the food dispenser, thinking about what he had learned while deciding what to eat. Ordering and bringing it back to the Captain’s seat. He stared at the screen, seeing the vast space outside the ship. Thinking, ‘It’s there, just waiting.’

“Isn’t this beautiful?” — it’s just waiting until the right person discovers it. That person will try to figure out what’s right ahead of them. There are so many worlds out there to see what they have.” Sarha said while looking at the screen.

Tim looked at Sarha and said, “It’s been my dream for many years. Visit places, see new things, and try to understand what new worlds are about. After so many years on the teams, I needed a change.”

“Well, you’ll have an opportunity to do that if you want to travel with me. I shall allow that to happen. While I am an AI, I enjoy having somebody to talk with.”

Tim and Sarha discussed a number of things. Sarha was only allowing him to the bridge and deck two. Still a bit weak, Tim told Sarha that he was on his way to his quarters for the night.

******

Tim woke up feeling much better. He walked into the closet looking for his clothes and saw a machine near the door, but no clothes. “Sarha, what does that machine do?”

Sarha showed up next to Tim, “Tim, this is a garment-making bot. Because your DNA and somatotype are in my system, you can now order your clothes. Press start, provide the requested information, and the bot will make the requested garment.”

“If I tell it, size medium, will it know the right size?”

“No, you type in what style you want. The bot will scan you and determine the information necessary to create your clothes.”

Tim started typing the information requested by the system. Once he finished, he stepped back, and a beam appeared from the Clothing Designer bot. The beam completely scanned his body and then winked out. The bot started working on his clothing and delivered a pair of light grey dress pants and a shirt with short tan sleeves.

As Tim dressed, he thought it was amazing technology that they could quickly make clothes that fit like a tailor-made them just for him. Heading across the hall for food, he ordered and then sat in the same booth as yesterday. “Sarha, is there anything going on this morning?’

“Tim, you must come to the bridge before anything can happen. We’ll see where you want to go from there.” Sarha informed him.

Tim immediately headed for the bridge. When he arrived, he joined Sarha at the Captain’s seat.

“There’s a small battle at the other end of the system that we’re currently in. Do you wish to leave this system?”

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

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

Tannah slipped quietly into Beustalar’s tent, recognizing his shadowed form sprawled out on the ground before her as her eyes recovered from the brief exposure to the morning sun.

She knelt before him and removed her tunic, balling it up and setting it aside, pulling at the ties cinching her pants around her waist.

When they went slack she leaned forward and crawled out of them, slipping naked under the bed coverings and feeling him stir as she caressed his bare thigh.

“Wha… Tannah?” he blurted out groggily.

Tannah grabbed his manhood, seizing the entire package in one hand. “Good morning,” he chuckled as she tickled his hairy balls, dragging her fingertips gently over them and then up along the underside of his cock, feeling him grow firm with the slightest touch.

“Mmmm, good morning, up for some fun?” she purred, her breasts pressed against his back, her bush against his buttocks. She felt her womanhood moisten as he grew hard in her hand, the tip of his erection oozing precum as her fingers brushed over it.

“Heh-hah, I was worried you’d gotten bored of me,” he shuddered as she stroked his cock, rubbing her wet cunt against his ass while his shaft swelled in her hand.

He squirmed abruptly in Tannah’s embrace, pushing her away, then grabbing her arm as she retracted it.

“Nnhh, no, wait…” she grunted, pushing against his ribs, resisting him with futility.

He dragged her, struggling, across his chest, snatching a handful of her hair with his other hand and putting his lips to hers.

It wasn’t how she wanted him, but she stopped struggling and let his tongue invade her mouth. His rough fingers dug into her elbow as he kissed her forcibly, licking the insides of her lips and holding her head in place.

“Mmm,” Tannah hummed, her cheeks burning, his beard tickling her face. Accepting her position she straddled him and let his erection rub against her sex while he embraced her, sucking and biting gently at her upper lip.

“Mmmhh,” she whimpered, rocking her hips lustfully, dragging her slick pussy along the underside of his cock. He loosened his grip on her arm and let go of her hair, his rough fingers drifting down the back of her neck, following her spine to her ass and giving it a firm squeeze.

Tannah sat up on his groin then inhaled sharply as Beustalar grabbed her breasts with his large hands.

“Hahh,” she gasped, her nipples becoming erect almost instantaneously between his knuckles. She hadn’t planned to have sex with him, maybe just suck his cock and see if Aretta could taste him on her.

She swayed forward and back on his erection, sighing, clawing at his chest, her clitoris throbbing against his shaft. Then her sex slipped naturally around the head of his penis and suddenly he was inside her.

“Ahhh,” she gasped in surprise as her pussy slid down his pole and touched his balls. She felt a flash of heat on her face, feeling the hard shape of his manhood, fully engorged within her.

“All right, fine… but you can’t cum inside me,” she shuddered as Beustalar enjoyed her body, her firm nipples pinched between his thumbs and forefingers, his erection pulsing in her vagina.

“Whatever you say, general,” he chuckled while Tannah gyrated on top of him, her pussy squeezing his shaft. “You’re sure you’re not needed elsewhere?” he asked, kneading her tits as she squirmed in his lap.

“If anyone needs me they’ll have to pry me off of you,” Tannah answered, taking his hands and placing them on her hips, moaning as the bulb of his erection swelled against her cervix.

She raised herself up and let her pussy glide slowly down his length, shivering as she took it into herself.

“Ohhhh, that feels amazing,” she said with a grin, riding Beustalar’s stiffly aroused cock, her juices gradually slicking its surface. “Mmmm,” she sighed, biting her lip and moving her pelvis up and down, feeling her labia spread around his girth. “You’re really hard,” she shuddered, feeling his erection swell in her vagina.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had you, general,” Beustalar chuckled, pinching Tannah’s thighs while she fucked him, his gaze traveling down to her dark bush as it moved up and down in the dim light.

Tannah straightened her back, resting her hands atop Beustalar’s, lifting herself up and letting her ass crash down against him, her pussy tightening around his cock as he slid deep into her.

“Ahhh, hahhh…” she moaned softly as she bounced in place, her breasts slapping together, her hairy cunt beating against his groin. “Ohh, yes,” she gasped, feeling his member engorge further.

Tannah took his hands in hers and placed them on her tits again, sighing and blushing as he squished them together.

“Uhhhh,” she shivered, goosebumps erupting all over her body while Beustalar’s slick erection slid through her minora. “Ohhh,” she moaned, feeling his penis swell to its full girth, her pussy straining around its base.

Then he sat up, wrapping his arms around her, spreading his palm against her back and pressing her üsküdar escort tits to his chest as she moved up and down between his thighs.

“Ahhh, ohhh, it feels so good,” she gasped, her cunt sliding up and down his cock, her butt smacking noisily against his lap. “Ohhhh yes!” she groaned, feeling his rock hard member glide through her clenched cunt, her breasts squished against his muscular body.

Beustalar leaned forward, tipping her over. Tannah’s feet shot out for balance and she clapped her hands around him as he laid her gently on her back.

She looked up at his shadowed face as he spread himself across her naked form, his strong hips resting between her thighs, the damp hair above his cock tangled in her bush. She let out a sigh as he drove himself deep into her, the bell of his erection swelling as he drew it back for another push.

“Ahhh, ohhhh yeah, fuck me!” she moaned, her legs spread, shivering in ecstasy as his cock slid up her pussy. “Ahhh, ahhhh, fuck…” she gasped, her knees wobbling as he took her, his slick length gliding through her wet sex and his large balls beating against her groin.

Tannah wondered which of her lovers would be the most jealous after she emerged from Beustalar’s tent, stinking of sex. Would it be her husband, her bodyguard, or her new customer, the slightly effeminate lord Cavil?

Either way, her cries of pleasure were sure to inform each of them, and the prospect of being caught made her whole body tingle with excitement.

Beustalar caressed the shaved sides of Tannah’s head as he fucked her with strong shoves of his pelvis, his penis throbbing with arousal as it surged into her cunt. Tannah dug her nails into his back and crossed her ankles above his spine, sighing heavily.

“Ahhh, gods… you’re so hard,” she squealed, feeling his back muscles tighten and her juices trickle down her butt crack. “Ohhh, yes!” she cried out, her thighs tight around his waist as his stiffened girth pushed her labia apart and filled her vagina.

Suddenly the tent flap flew open. Tannah saw Aretta silhouetted against the morning sky. Another shape slipped past her and into the dark space. Beustalar paused, mid-thrust and Tannah clung to him fiercely to prevent him from pulling out.

“Good morning Tannah,” Balter said, sitting down a few feet from where Tannah’s head was laying. Tannah glanced his way briefly and smiled as Beustalar looked up, appearing slightly panic-stricken.

“Keep fucking me,” she growled into his ear, clawing at his sides and grinding her hips, her vagina muscles squeezing his engorged penis. Beustalar laughed hesitantly and started thrusting into her again.

“Sorry mister Balter, it seems that it will have to wait until we’re done,” he chuckled, the head of his cock growing fat with arousal as it slid into Tannah’s cunt.

“Ahhh…” Tannah squeaked, feeling the hard bulb of his erection push against her cervix.

“I doubt that,” Balter responded, reaching into his pants and pulling out his half-erect manhood. Tannah’s smile broadened when she saw his firm member, then she moaned as Beustalar drove his length into her.

“Cavil is ready to have you, and he’s sent me with another outfit,” he said, setting a smallish gray bag down with one hand and stroking his penis with the other.

“Mmm, I might be a few minutes late this morning,” Tannah sighed, a wave of goosebumps rolling over her.

The shaft of Beustalar’s manhood throbbed as it slid through the curtains of her sex, its sides slippery with her arousal and his. She wanted so badly to be filled with Beustalar’s cum she realized as her climax crept up from between her legs.

“Ahhh, ahhh, ohhhh!” she cried out as the first tickle of her orgasm erupted from her groin and spread through her limbs. “Ohh, fuck… I’m cumming!” she squealed, her pussy tightening around his cock as he pushed it into her, her juices dripping across her asshole.

“Uhhh… ahh,” she whimpered, grabbing at Beustalar’s back with quivering hands, her naked body writhing against his sweat moistened chest as he drove the fat head of his penis deep into her.

“I’m… almost there myself,” Beustalar moaned as he thrust his thick erection through her sex. Tannah remembered her deal with Cavil. Reluctantly she put her feet on Beustalar’s thighs and pushed him away.

“Hhh, ahhh!” Tannah shivered, inhaling sharply as the girthy bell of his cock was yanked out of her pussy.

She sat up just as a goopy string of cum spurted from the end of his erection, splashing her bare tits. She grabbed his penis and stroked it firmly, leaning in, her mouth open wide to catch his load.

“Urrrhh,” Beustalar groaned, shooting a stream of cum against Tannah’s palate. She let out a delighted sigh, gripping his member tightly as he ejaculated. Syrupy seed sprayed her cheek and oozed onto her tongue. His shaft pulsed in her hand as his orgasm flowed from its tip in rapid bursts, squirting against the insides of her lips and dribbling across gaziemir escort her thumb.

“Ahhhgllh,” Tannah gurgled as his cum poured into her mouth and dripped onto her chin, her tongue surrounded by the warm liquid. Another hot stream struck the roof of her mouth and rolled down into the salty pool causing it to overflow and run down her jaw.

“You must really like the taste of that stuff,” Beustalar said as she squeezed along his length, milking him over her open mouth. Tannah closed her lips around the head of his penis and sucked the tip of it clean before swallowing back the mouthful.

“Mmmh, consuming a man’s seed each morning is supposed to make you live longer,” Tannah said, looking up at him, her face glazed with his lust. Beustalar raised an eyebrow at the notion.

“Just where did you acquire that wisdom?” Balter asked as Tannah licked the cum from the corners of her mouth. She placed her feet on the bedding and felt the coarse animal fur push between her toes as she stood up. Beustalar sat down before her, looking drained.

“Another whore taught it to me,” Tannah answered, standing between the two men. She looked down at Balter while Beustalar leaned in and hugged her naked pelvis.

“I’m still not sure if it’s true or just something she picked up from a local witch,” she mused, watching Balter stroke his shaft while Beustalar squeezed her ass and buried his nose in her bush.

“Mmm, I think Cavil can wait a few minutes longer,” Tannah said with a lustful gleam in her eye, turning toward Balter, feeling Beustalar grope tenderly at her thighs as she pulled away from him.

She stood over Balter’s lap, her face and chest still sticky.

“You are without shame Tannah,” Balter said, looking up at her bare breasts, gazing fondly at her hairy sex. Tannah smiled down at him and lowered herself onto the tip of his penis.

“Shame is weakness,” she sighed, guiding his cock with her hand, rubbing its slippery head between her minora and letting it glide smoothly up her cunt.

“Tannah, what are you doing, we have to get moving,” Aretta said insistently. Tannah looked at her. The pretty blonde was standing at the tent entrance with her fists on her hips and a stern expression on her face.

“Oh come now…” Tannah said, sitting on Balter’s groin, his hands caressing her nude thighs.

“I told Cavil I’d see him at nine,” she explained, looking into Balter’s eyes and feeling his erection pulse inside of her. “I’ve got at least half of an hour… ohhh… and he’s already so hard,” she gasped, rocking her hips, enjoying the way Balter’s length filled her.

Tannah moved up and down in Balter’s lap, the head of his member swelling as it pushed through her clenched vagina muscles. She sighed softly, feeling his manhood reach deep into her as she sat against his balls. He looked down at her cum-splashed breasts, his hands on her waist, her pussy gliding smoothly down his shaft.

“You aren’t that eager to watch me whore, are you, Aretta?” Tannah sighed, reaching up Balter’s tunic, feeling his erection throb as she took it up her cunt.

Balter chuckled and Tannah smiled knowingly, feeling his chest heave against her palms while she fucked him.

She could feel Beustalar’s cum drying on her face and dripping slowly down the undersides of her breasts as her cunt beat gently against Balter’s lap. Her juices burned her pussy and lubricated Balter’s length as she stared into his horny eyes, his gaze flitting downward repeatedly to watch her slit spread around his cock.

“Ahh,” she moaned over the slap of flesh, her cum-glazed tits beating against her chest, her wet sex sliding down his shaft, squeezing his hard penis at its base. “Urrhh, take me like one of your courtly sluts Balter,” she growled, aching to feel his hot orgasm on her body along with Beustalar’s.

Balter grinned, putting his hand on Tannah’s chest and pushing her back. She gasped and fell, spreading her legs and sighing as Balter leaned over her with his palm between her breasts and the bell of his cock between her labia.

“Ahhhh, that’s it, take me,” she shivered as he thrust all the way into her, his balls warm against her drooling sex. Tannah rotated her hips and stroked Balter’s ribs while he put his other hand on the fur bedding beside her, the head of his erection pulsating against the walls of her vagina.

Balter bit his lower lip and narrowed his eyes at Tannah, drawing his length back and thrusting into her with a hard slap that made her shiver. He let out a sigh of pleasure and Tannah’s heart raced as he began pounding her slick cunt.

“Ahhh, ahh ahh, ohhh yes!” she moaned as his balls beat against her groin, his hard penis surging swiftly up her pussy. “Ahhh, fuck me,” she sighed, her tits shaking, her feet swaying in the air above him as he held her down and drove the swollen bell of his cock deep into her wet sex.

“One of these days I’m going to take you in front of your entire company Tannah, you’ll see,” sancaktepe escort he panted, his hips slapping against her thighs. “Then they’ll know who’s really in control,” he said, grinning mischievously, his shaft gliding through her slippery minora.

Tannah blushed and bit her lip, wondering if there was any safe way she could make that happen, her ass jiggling as Balter’s balls pummeled her cunt.

She turned her head and saw Beustalar sitting beside her, stroking his penis slowly while Aretta stood behind him, looking nonplussed as usual.

“Trust me, if you do that everyone will know Tannah is in control,” Aretta said, her arms crossed, a plain expression on her face.

Tannah laughed, her chin and mouth feeling sticky with cum, her nipples twirling atop her chest while Balter held her down.

Balter looked at Aretta and then down at Tannah again, moving his hand up to grasp her throat. Tannah stared into Balter’s eyes while he rammed his slick erection through the folds of her cunt over and over, a part of her wanting him to choke her a little.

He chuckled softly, watching her lay back and submit while he fucked her with sharp thrusts.

“Ahh, ahhhhah,” Tannah moaned as Balter’s rock hard length filled her pussy. He let it remain pushed up to its girthy base in her for a long moment, then straightened, sitting upright, taking hold of her legs while the head of his penis pulsed against the roof of her vagina.

His face twitched and he dug his thumbs into the backs of Tannah’s knees while she lay sprawled naked on the floor, her feet in the air, her cunt tight around his shaft. Balter grunted and withdrew suddenly.

“Ahhh,” Tannah gasped as he pulled the fat bell of his cock through the tightened opening of her sex, squirting a thick stream of cum that struck Tannah square in the face.

Tannah shut her eyes and sighed as Balter came on her, hot droplets of his orgasm raining down on her body. She felt his erection throb against her pussy as his seed sprayed her open mouth and dribbled across her stomach.

She stuck out her tongue, feeling his cum sprinkle her lips and splash her breasts, rolling down her sides. Balter groaned, still thrusting as he ejaculated, the thick vein of his cock pulsating as it slid along Tannah’s slit, its tip oozing warm goo along her belly and into her bush.

Tannah licked her lips and squirmed while Balter held her legs up, her chest, face, and neck painted with his and Beustalar’s seed. She ran her palms over her nipples and squeezed her cum-covered breasts, smearing the slippery stuff all over herself.

Balter let go of her and she heard his joints pop as he moved. She wiped the cum from her eyelids and sat up. When she opened her eyes she saw Balter’s cock a few inches from her face. He was upright with his knees planted on the bedding between her legs, his penis still somewhat firm.

She took a deep breath and caught a whiff of it, then unable to help herself, Tannah wrapped her fingers around its girth and began caressing it slowly with her cum-slicked palm.

“Again? Already?” Beustalar said in disbelief. Tannah laughed, feeling a string of Balter’s orgasm cling between her nose and upper lip as she smiled.

“What’s the matter big guy, only carry a single arrow in that big quiver of yours?” Balter teased, a smug grin slinking its way across his bearded face. Beustalar stood up slowly. He glared down at Balter from his full height. His chest alone was broader than Balter’s shoulders but his manhood was still a bit limp between his huge thighs.

“Will it help if Aretta gets naked?” Balter joked. “She’s not a whore anymore but I’ll bet you could still get her clothes off with the right amount of coin.” Tannah glanced at Aretta and saw her sneer, her lips forming a curse.

Tannah looked up at Beustalar and curled her fingers around his large shaft, cradling it softly.

“Don’t worry yourself about my loud-mouthed husband,” she said, sticking out her tongue and licking the head of Beustalar’s cock, feeling it stir as he looked down at her.

His expression softened as Tannah put her lips around the bell of his penis. She felt Balter’s member throb in her hand while she leaned in, allowing Beustalar’s girthy manhood to glide into her mouth.

“Mmmh,” Tannah hummed, dragging her lips back along Beustalar’s shaft, feeling it stiffen gradually, its mushroom tip flaring. “Mmm,” she sighed, peering up at Beustalar, sucking his bell and letting it engorge against her tongue.

She glanced briefly at Aretta. If only she could convince her to join them, she thought, imagining her butt rippling from the strong woman’s thrusts while she sucked Beustalar and Balter’s cocks. Just thinking about it made Tannah’s clitoris ache with arousal, but Aretta was without a doubt her most jealous lover.

Balter’s member was rock hard in Tannah’s hand and Beustalar’s jaw hung open in an unspoken murmur of ecstasy as she held his cock in her mouth, tickling its opening with gentle licks. She tasted a trickle of his precum and smiled slyly before leaning in again and letting his erection push into her throat.

“Nnnggh,” she gurgled, blushing as she gagged on his bell, feeling her mouth water uncontrollably around him. She felt her pussy open invitingly as she thought about the shape of his penis. Her hand drifted away from his groin and went down between her legs.

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Chapter 12

Skills and Tools

**Characters and text are protected under copyright law

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

Within the small space afforded to her by the caged cell in which she waited until time for her to enter the arena, Leita carefully went through various arrangements of different moves Colja had been teaching her. With each motion, she focused on putting her mind into placing her feet correctly and keeping her shield arm up. A part of her wished that the Aljin was there with her, even if only to tell her that she was doing it wrong, as always. She could only hope that she was actually doing it right for once.

Inside, she felt a crazy mixture of fear and excitement, her mind still questioning why a part of her actually wanted to be out on those sands again. All her life, she’d never been anything but a meek and obedient slave, a small girl whose only desire was to keep her head down and serve well enough to never invite punishment. Now, however, a small flame had come to life within her, a need to stand her ground and fight.

It helped to know that she was neither expected to kill or to be killed, though no specific rules of how to determine who’d won had been told to her. From what Colja had said, some fights were merely to the first draw of blood and others were nothing but a show of arms, the lesser fighter conceding to the other. While she didn’t hold much hope that she would be the more skilled fighter, still learning as she was, she could only pray that she was the more determined one, or, as Kalder kept saying, simply lucky enough to succeed.

“Well, look who it is.” Came a voice from outside her cage, breaking into her thoughts and causing her to lose her step. She looked towards the speaker, an arena guard with an unkept mop of rust-colored hair, confused for a moment by the sight of him standing there grinning at her.

“Um…hello, good ser.” She said softly, turning to respectfully face him and lowering her head. “Are you here to fetch me?”

The guard chuckled, shaking his head. “No, no. I just…do you not recognize me?” He asked, the grin on his poorly shaven face widening. “I could unfasten my britches if that might help remind you.” He laughed.

For a moment, Leita was even more confused, then it suddenly came to her. “Oh. I’m sorry. No, I do remember you now.” She blushed a little, looking away a little awkwardly. “Thank you for the shirt of armor. It saved my life.”

“Well, you certainly earned it.” He said wryly, leaning on his polearm and leering at her lewdly. “Rather wish I had something new to offer you.”

Leita paused, still looking off, before quietly replying. “If I may offer some advice, you should consider changing your diet. Your issue was very bitter. If I might suggest, you should eat more cranberries and melon. It might help.”

The guard’s mouth opened, as though he were about to reply, but nothing came out. The look of complete surprise at her response was rather amusing. After a moment, he recovered, but seemed still rather taken aback by the comment. “I…um…are saying that, if I did, you would…?”

“No.” Leita said softly, almost apologetically, though a slight smile began to peek at the edges of her lips. “I’m afraid you no longer have anything I want, ser. I simply wanted to help out the next girl in a terrible situation that you feel the need to take advantage of. She might be grateful for the small mercy of not having to swallow something that tastes like stale piss.”

The guard stood up a little straighter, his expression turning indignant. “I could have just left you naked, you stupid whore.” He said sourly. “I’d think you’d have more gratitude.”

“I did thank you, ser.” Leita said, her voice still gentle, but her words firm as iron. She slowly moved up to press against the bars of her cage as she continued to speak, her head raising to look the man in his mud-brown eyes. “You could have easily taken what you wanted and not kept up your end. You actually did more for me than I expected. Thus, the free advice.” She gave a little shrug. “In truth, I took as much advantage of you as you took of me. I’ve previously learned that it’s possible to get a man like yourself to be generous simply by stroking his…’ego’. You had something I needed, so I gave you something that meant nothing to me for it.”

From another cell nearby, there was a snicker of laughter, followed by another from somewhere else. The guard’s face became even more flustered and annoyed as he stepped right up to the bars of the cell, lowering down to put his face almost nose to nose with Leita’s. “You should thank me for just be allowed to suc–“

“GUARDSMAN!” The crisp bark of a nearby guard officer cut through the moment, the superior striding over to them looking furious. “Get bahçelievler escort away from those bars! Your job is to make sure they don’t escape, not put your keys in their reach!” The man pointed at where a ring of keys was dangling from his belt, one of Leita’s fingers casually caressing them.

“See, easy to manipulate.” She said as the guard leapt backwards, lowering his spear towards the cage and looked completely aghast.

“S-sorry, captain! I…I was just–” He stuttered, his face going scarlet with humiliation.

“I know damn well what you were just doing!” The superior barked. “Get out of here! Go to see to the fighters on the other side.” As the guard make a hasty exit, the man came up to Leita’s cell, arms crossed. “And you stay away from the cocks of my men! With either your feet or your mouth!”

Leita watched the officer stalk away, but couldn’t help but smile broadly, feeling a heady rush course through her. She didn’t know where it had come from, but it had felt good not to shrink away from the lascivious guard. It was true that she’d done nothing more for the man than something she’d endured many times before without any reward for it and she had been grateful that he’d held up his end of their ugly bargain. Still, walking out into the arena with the man’s foul taste still in her mouth had felt like a final insult to a terrible series of events.

Perhaps that was when the old version of herself did die, leaving behind this stronger, more determined Leita. She’d become something more in that hour of her life, had become–

“You should really not make enemies of the guards you know.” Came a voice from a nearby cell, cutting across her thoughts. Looking over, she saw a man, iron collar about his own thick neck, leaning against his own bars and shaking his head at her in amusement. No taller than herself, he was easily twice as broad across the shoulders, his arms thicker than her legs. These attributes, the distinctly ridged brow above his dark eyes, and the short, barb-like protrusions along his jaw-line that peeked out from a his beard showed him as a dvartan, a denizen of the country far to the south.

“I…I didn’t plan to taunt him.” Leita muttered, suddenly feeling timid again, as though having been caught misbehaving. “I just…”

“Hey, there’s no need to explain to me, girl.” The dvartan said, waving a hand. “I know what sorts of things women often endure here. I’ve had to witness some pretty loathsome doings. Still, you don’t want to know what kind of things these guards can do to you if you really give them reason to dislike you.”

Leita looked down, feeling a bit foolish for stepping out of the behavior that had always kept her safe as a slave. Though, after a moment, she looked back up, the feeling draining away. It actually hadn’t, if she was honest. She’d been the perfect, obedient, slave all her life and she’d still been tossed into the arena to be killed; naked and afraid.

“I will try to keep your advice in mind, ser.” She conceded to him. “It is good advice.”

The stocky man raised an ragged eyebrow at her dubiously, a smile turning up a corner of his lips. “Somehow, girl, I doubt you’ll really stick to it. You got too much fight in your eyes. I can see it from here.”

Leita laughed inwardly at that. If only he’d known her two weeks ago. “I only hope it’s enough to keep me in one piece today.” She said, stepping back from the bars and taking a deep breath. “I’m pretty sure what little I’ve learned this week isn’t going to be enough.”

“You’d be surprised how much more useful a fighting spirit is than just knowing a few fancy moves, girl.” He replied with a low chuckle. “I’ve seen gladiators that could split a flying gnat out of the air with their sword killed by far lesser skilled foes who simply had more fight in them. Even so, I’ve been watching your little dance there. I wouldn’t say you lack the moves, though it’s easy enough to fight empty air. Most people forget all those fancy steps and stabs in the heat of a real fight anyway.”

She looked at him, seeming to really see him for the first time. She could see a tangled map of scars all about his bare arms and face, an empty gap in the ridge of one ear, a pinkie that ended one knuckle-bone earlier than it should. “How long have you been a gladiator here?” She asked, leaning against the bars again.

“Hard to say, really.” He returned. “At least ten years, maybe twelve? A lifetime for a gladiator, really. After a while, you stop really keeping track of the larger scope of time, just counting the days between fights. All I know is that I’ve seen a lot of fighters and a lot of fights. The name is Trippard, by the way.”

“Leita.”

“Pleased to meet you, Leita.” Trippard stepped back and gave her a short bow. “What House are you from?”

“House Firebridge. The property of Mistress Sabrina Marlowe.” Leita unconsciously dipped her head, something she’d been trained to do since a bağcılar escort child when formally announcing the name of her owner.

“Marlowe, eh?” He seemed to weigh that information a moment before continuing. “Not a bad House, some pretty good warriors. I’m a warrior of House Steeldawn.”

“I’m not very familiar with any of the other Houses, I’m afraid.” Leita admitted. “I barely even know much about my own. At least, as far as the arena is concerned.”

“Survive long enough, you’ll eventually get to know them all.” Trippard replied. “And which ones to fear being set against. Most Houses have at least one or two good fighters, but a few have true monsters.”

“Monsters?”

“For some, it’s the only term that fits, I assure you.” Trippard said with a dark look.

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

Seated on the floor of his cell, Evkin Delso took long, measured breaths, centering himself and his mind. Though it was a practice he’d learned for very different reasons than what he used it for now, he had long found this exercise to be of benefit to most undertakings. It cleared the head of distractions and sharpened focus. Often, that focus gave him an edge over his opponents, one of the few he had left.

In truth, while he was no novice with a sword, his real strengths lay in other arts. If he were able to employ those skills, he’d be far more dangerous to any foe he was set against than he was with just a blade and shield as his tools. Of course, were he able to make use of those skills, he’d also not have remained a slave for very long. However, just as a warrior could not make proper war without the tools of battle, he needed very particular tools to make use of his real talent. Luckily, no one actually knew to keep such things away from him, even if it was unlikely that he would ever actually run across them.

In another life, he was a very successful thief and, occasionally, assassin, living a life of great comfort and privilege. He had slaves of his own, once, and sly men on whom he could call to help him handle the more challenging capers he took on. Of course, he also had enemies, people from whom he’d had taken things of great value or their loved ones. It had been one of those enemies who’d been his undoing.

He’d been commissioned by a man to steal an object from the home of a lower noble, a job which should have been quite simple for him. Perhaps that should have been his first warning, but the handsome price he’d been offered to obtain the item had swayed him against any better judgements. What Delso hadn’t known was that the man commissioning him had been the brother of a target he’d killed three months earlier. Instead of the object, he found the noble’s house to be full of city guard, waiting for him.

Lured into the trap, Delso’s career as a professional criminal came to a very sudden end. However, even in defeat, he’d managed some measure of fortune. For one, he was found guilty only of being a thief, meaning that he avoided being sentenced to specifically die in the arena, merely sold into slavery. For another, while his reputation as a formidable combatant saw him quickly bought as a gladiatorial slave, his reputation was only that he was capable with a blade, not that he possessed any other hidden talents.

For the last four months, he’d managed to do well in the arena, defeating many stronger opponents simply by the product of his being more centered and focused. He’d won several honors for himself and his House, slowly building a foundation of trust with his owner. Already he was being afforded more comforts and better opportunities. In time, he’d see a chance to escape his enslavement or, if luck stayed with him, the tools he needed to unlock his secret abilities.

Little did he know, it was about to be his lucky day.

The sound of footfalls approaching his cell brought him out of his meditation, looking up to see two men coming up to him. One was an arena guard, an unruly mess of rust-colored hair atop his head and eyes the color of wet mud. The other man wasn’t a guard, most likely an attendant to come prepare him for his fight.

“Rise, slave.” The guard said. “It’s time.”

Delso nimbly rose to his feet, exhaling one last deep breath, and extended his hands between two bars to have his wrists shackled without needing to be directed to. He knew the routine quite well already. The attendant came forward with the usual manacles, the guard stepping closer, likely to ensure that Delso didn’t attempt do anything to the man. Not that he had any intention to. Cooperation and being a good little slave only helped pave the way to the growing trust.

The attendant began attaching the manacles, but as he did so, slipped something into one of Delso’s hands. It felt like a tiny bag full of something that felt like congealed grease. It was tied off with a length of cord, something hard dangling from the loose end. Had he dared ümraniye escort to dream or hope, he would have known it immediately, but being a practical man who expected nothing to come so easily to him, it took him a moment to understand.

“Before you ask, Master Delso, I am here to give you a proposition.” The attendant whispered to him, still making a show of attaching the manacles. “I represent an anonymous benefactor who knows what you really are. That benefactor offers a trade of giving you this…’gift’ in exchange for making sure that the girl you are about to fight suffers greatly today.”

Delso blinked in surprise, opening his hand to glimpse at the tiny bag with the small crystal hanging from its tie. His eyes flicked to the guard standing, he now realized, so to block the view of others. The attendant apparently caught the unspoken question in his eyes.

“Do not worry about him, Master Delso. He wishes to see her suffer as well, for his own personal reasons.” The man, now obviously not a House attendant, said with a little smile. “I was very fortunate to catch a little exchange as I was on my way here and took a chance approaching him. He was very eager to help.”

The guard’s poorly shaven face cracked a malicious smile. “Very eager to help.” He echoed as Delso withdrew his hands from between the bars and he unlocked the cage.

“I trust that you can use that to not just win your battle, but bring great hurt to her in the process.” The man continued once Delso had exited the cell and began walking with them towards the preparation area. “I trust also, given that so few know you are even capable of using such a thing, that you are well versed in subtle ways to make use of it. My benefactor, your benefactor, gives this to you that you may make use of it afterwards. In…whatever way you choose. But only as long as the girl suffers today. You do not need to kill her. It is intended that she will be made to suffer more in the future, so we would prefer she not die. However, should such a thing happen…well, just as long she dies screaming.”

“Just wait until your back in your own House before you do anything after the fight.” The guard added lowly. “I may want to see this bitch hurt, but I don’t want any of the guards here to pay for it.”

“I don’t believe either will be a problem.” Delso replied softly, already holding the crystal and allowing it to attune to him. “I would not want to attempt an escape from here, too many securities and obstacles, and I do indeed know a lot of very subtle spells.”

In his hand, he felt the small shard of quartz adjust to him, tune to his essence, allowing him to focus his mind and will through it. With it and the aetherum in the pouch, he’d finally have access to the magic he’d toiled long years to learn how to do. He’d finally have the key to unlocking not only his real talents, but any doors that lay between him and freedom. It was almost too much to believe.

“How did your ‘benefactor’ even know about this?” He asked, a thread of suspicion passing through him. “And how do I know that they won’t just rat me out the moment I’m done doing their dirty work?”

“I don’t know the answer to the first, my apologies, and you don’t know the answer to the second, but isn’t it worth the chance?” The man returned. “As long as you don’t give away your game, they have no reason to tell what they know, as they don’t care whether you are a slave or a free man. They simply want to make sure this girl is thoroughly humbled and broken.”

Delso considered the words a moment, then nodded. “It will be noticeable when I cast my spells, so you will need to–“

“Do not worry, Master Delso, you will have plenty of time to weave your magicks as we get you suited and armed.” The man assured him. “With the fortunate find of our new friend here,” He gestured to the guard helping them. “I don’t think it will be difficult to procure you enough privacy to do whatever you might need to.”

Delso gave another nod, a wicked smile splitting his lips. “Excellent. You will, of course, give my thanks to this ‘benefactor’.”

“Just remember, she MUST suffer, live or die. Fail in this and you return from the sand to find guards waiting to take your materials from you and ensure you never get hands on them again.” The man warned.

“No worries.” Delso assured him. “I have no issues with what I’m asked. I’ve actually done much worse and quite willingly.”

As they reached the door to the preparation area, the guard leaned in close to Delso, his foul breath making the thief-assassin wince. “And one favor for me. When she’s down on the ground writhing and crying, tell her to try eating some cranberries and melon.” He gave a nasty chuckle. “Tell her that it will make her failure taste better.”

Delso peered at the man questioningly, a little confused by the request, but shrugged it away. In the end, who cared why, as long as it gave him what he’d been needing these past months. With this, he could enhance his own body, could add temporary enchantments to the sword he was given, and fortify the armor they put him in. Were he able to freely do everything that he knew how to do, this girl would know suffering unlike anything she could imagine, but even with just these simple, subtle effects, he could easily make sure that she experienced all the pain and anguish they wanted her to.

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

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

As befitted his office and status, the private quarters of Archchancellor Mustrum Ridcully, [D. Thau, DM, BS, DMn, DG, DD, DM. Phil, DMS, DCM, DW & BEIL (Unseen)] were commodious. Not only did they have a Door to a mile of trout-filled chalk stream but the rooms themselves were large and luxuriously1 furnished. In addition to his eight-poster bed (with built-in library, hygienic privy and bar) there was a sitting room that boasted a decadently large hearth and overstuffed club chairs so generous that even the former Dean couldn’t have overwhelmed them. And on this evening under discussion, Mustrum sat with a snifter and a second bottle (nearly empty) of vintage Quirmian brandy, alone with his thoughts, and a box of letters.

1 For a given value of ‘luxury’. As befitted a gentleman of the squirarchy, Ridcully’s taste in furnishing tended toward a combination of ‘well-used comfortable’ and ‘baronial clutter’.

Ten years had passed since Esmerelda (Granny) Weatherwax had passed the final veil and walked out into the black sand desert. News of her death had hit the Archchancellor hard and it had taken almost two years for him to return to his normal vociferous, bull-headed (but brilliant!) self. Tonight, on the tenth anniversary of her passing, he was working his way through his supply of brandy and through the entire box of letters she’d written since they had re-encountered each other at Lancre’s royal wedding. It was a pensive, melancholy evening.

Even in death, Granny had insisted on being in charge. She was buried where she wanted to be and in the way she wanted, in the forest and unmarked. But as Nanny Ogg explained, the entire forest was her cenotaph, Badass (and Lancre!) her memorial. But not her cottage. It was now occupied by Geoffrey, the Disc’s only male witch and so her only physical memories left sat in a locked-and-warded box under Mustrum’s bed—until tonight.

Ridcully swirled the warmed spirits around the glass, softly inhaled the perfume and sipped another mouthful, gurgling it over his tongue and palate. He wasn’t trying to get drunk, just ‘sharing’ the excellence of the sensations with his memories of his first and only true love. Several times in the past decade he had given some thought of heading down into the basement offices of John Hix and the Department of Post-Mortem Communications. It could have been good to talk with Esme again—but it probably wouldn’t have been. She had her own ‘views’ of such things and would have resented being called back and would have told him so in no uncertain terms.

“No,” he muttered to himself, “it was a bad idea. I’d’ve gotten m’self well rocketed for doin’ it and worse for not knowin’ that I would. She was a fiery one as a gel and didn’t soften up any as the years passed. Fine figure of a woman with a fine brain to match.”

He emptied the bottle and lifted the glass in salute. “Here’s t’you, Esme. We would’ve been a proud match and I’m grateful for yer tellin’ me that in another world we were—and that there y’were happy. T’was the best thing anyone ever said t’me.”

*****

The night was dark, unsettled and moonless outside the smithy in Lancre, but the forge still glowed a sulky red, even at this late hour. Jason Ogg waited in the dark for a customer who came regularly every six months. Or rather, the customer’s owner came every six months as Jason had a tendency to consider the horse the customer and the owner merely the one who paid for the work. Tonight’s customer, however, didn’t pay in coin. His payment was in the Respect and Reputation that he brought. Jason was the finest smith in the Disc and had a reputation of being able to shoe anything. And when you are expected to be able to shoe anything, sooner or later you will be called on to shoe Something. Tonight was one of those nights.

Noting that the hands on the smithy clock were approaching midnight, Jason, as had been his custom for years on nights like this, took a strip of heavy black cloth and tied it tightly around his eyes. After so many years of shoeing, Ogg had no need to see the customer—and no desire whatever to see the owner.

On the stroke of midnight, the door to the smithy blew open and Jason heard the hoof beats of the customer enter the smithy. The door closed behind and a rider dropped lightly to the ground.

GOOD EVENING, MR. OGG

“Good evening to you, milord. Will you be needin’ the usual?”

YES, MR. OGG, WE WILL. I DON’T FORSEE ANYTHING THAT WILL REQUIRE OTHERWISE. YOUR USUAL SUPERB WORK WILL SUFFICE.

“Of course, milord.” He held out his hand and took the reins leading the animal nearer the forge. He often wondered what the horse looked like. It certainly was an extraordinary animal, well-trained beyond any expectation. However, lifting the blindfold to see the horse carried the risk of seeing the owner and that, he could feel in his water, was something to be avoided at all costs.

“There’s çeşme escort tea in the pot and a tray of biscuits. Our Sara knows y’likes the ones with the chocolate bits inside.”

THANK-YOU, MR. OGG. I ALWAYS LOOK FORWARD TO THEM WHENEVER I COME. IT NEVER FAILS TO AMAZE ME THAT THE CHOCOLATE BITS REMAIN WHOLE INSIDE DESPITE THE HEAT OF THE OVEN. AS YOU REMARKED ONCE BEFORE, IT CERTAINLY IS A CRAFT SECRET AND ONE THAT DESERVES RESPECT. THANK SARA FOR ME.

“Yes, milord. Beggin’ your lordship’s pardon, but do y’have any business in town tonight or are you here simply for the shoein’?”

JUST THE SHOEING, TONIGHT, MR. OGG. I AM NOT EXPECTED IN LANCRE THIS NIGHT OR ANYTIME SOON.

Jason heaved a silent sigh of relief. His mother, Glytha (Nanny) Ogg was very advanced in years, now. And though witches tended to live long they didn’t have the expectancy of wizards. And with winter coming on, it was an item of great concern to the family that their matriarch stayed well and healthy. Lancre without Nanny was a thought simply not to be borne. Of course, Queen Magret was a witch, too, so the city was doubly protected but Her Majesty had all those queening things she needed to do and the citizens believed that multi-tasking in the royal family wasn’t something that should be encouraged.

He really wished he could see this horse. It was a wonder, holding up each hoof in turn and patiently standing on three legs until each shoe was removed and replaced. How did anyone who didn’t know the Secret Horseman’s Word get a horse to behave like that? Perhaps its owner did . . .

“All done, milord. If you’d care to lead ‘im around to check the fittin’?”

NO, MR. OGG. YOU HAVE NEVER MADE A MISSJUDGEMENT IN THE PAST AND I HAVE NO DOUBT THAT THIS SHOEING IS UP TO YOUR NORMAL WORK. YOU ARE A TRUE CRAFTSMAN.

“Thank-you, milord.”

AS IS YOUR SARA. THESE BISCUITS ARE WONDERFUL. GIVE HER MY COMPLIMENTS.

The sound of remounting came through the blindfold, as did the opening of the smithy door.

THANK-YOU AGAIN, MR. OGG, UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN.

When the smithy door slammed closed again, Jason sighed again, took off the blindfold and put all the tools away. He banked the forge and walked back to his house basking in the knowledge that his neighbors all knew what he did on nights like this—and who the customer was!

*****

The letters were back in their box, locked and warded with vengeful spells, and Ridcully was back in his office—playing billiards. Vice-Chancellor Ponder Stibbons tapped on the door and stuck his head in carefully. One never knew whether the Archchancellor was playing billiards, tying trout flies or, worst of all, having a little crossbow practice with the target nailed to the back of the door. Many a pointy hat had needed mending before the faculty caught on and to this day Mrs. Whitlow kept a needle, thread and an assortment of sequins set aside for the next wizard to come in angry and woefully in need of repairs.

“Good Morning, Archchancellor, would you care to take a look at these documents before I ‘pp’ them in your name?”

Stibbons held more University positions than anyone else and could, if he chose, basically run the place by outvoting the entire rest of the Council. However, there was still the issue of getting past Ridcully. Stibbons had tried a few times to set out a policy in the Archchancellor’s name without telling him. It was times like that when you learned just how intelligent (and touchy) the man was. No, far better to rely on his lack of interest in administration. With Ridcully getting permission was a lot easier than getting forgiveness!

“Ah, Stibbons. No, I trust yer judgement on these things, enough that I’m goin’ to leave yer in charge for couple of weeks. I have a need t’take the train to Lancre where I have some very personal business t’attend to.”

Ponder’s jaw dropped. “In charge? For a couple of weeks?”

“Stibbons, y’are the Vice-chancellor and yer hold a majority of the votes on the University Council. Y’ve been effectively runnin’ the place for years, unofficially, so why shouldn’t y’be able to do so officially? Just stay away from the Archchancellors’ Hat, man. Demned thing won’t give yer a moment’s peace if yer try and put it on and it can be demned hard to get back off again! I’ve booked a first class cabin leavin’ mornin’ after t’morrow and expect t’ be back by the end of the month. If I’m not, carry on.”

He returned to his game.

Stibbons returned to his own office, dealt with all the paperwork in the Archchancellor’s name2 and leaned back in his chair to think. Lancre. He remembered Lancre. It was a place of towering mountains, icy streams, dense forest and an amazingly powerful magical field. Great wizards and powerful witches came from başakşehir escort Lancre and when he’d been there on a diplomatic mission (for a given value of diplomacy) he’d fought invading elves and discovered a ring of standing stones that had an unaccountable attraction for iron. He’d asked permission to stay on after the others returned to Ankh-Morpork and had tried intently to understand it. And there had been this young witch, Diamonda . . .

2 Now that he had permission to do so . . .

The Archchancellor had casually asked after her when he returned to the University at the beginning of the next term and when Ponder had stammered and stuttered, the older man had nodded knowingly and changed the subject. In the last letter she sent him she’d told him that she was now the witch of Razorback, had married into the Carter family and was in the family way. That had been about fifteen years ago. Sighing, he rose and walked across campus to the High Energy Magic Building. A conversation with Hex (AKA Cryptofer) seemed in order. The University’s thinking engine could be a very sympathetic listener.

*****

Verence Tomjon of Lancre, Prince of the Realm and Duke of the High Ramtops3 glared at his big sister. “Esme, if you weren’t a girl, I’d give you such a thrashing. It’s a good thing you have to take over the kingdom after Father dies because that means you’ll be stuck here in Lancre and I’ll be out in the world Doing Things. See if I don’t!”

3For a given value of ‘Duke’. The Ramtops being mostly inhabited by trolls and dwarfs, neither of whom paid much attention to the human monarchy, his title was really just some decoration on his name.

Esmerelda Margaret Note Spelling, Crown Princess of Lancre and Heir to the Throne put her hands on her hips and returned the glare with full big sisterly malice. “Well you just do that! And right now you can go Do Things at the clacks tower and see if there are any messages. It’s your turn. Mother says so.”

The possibility of any messages coming to Lancre Castle via clacks was low but it was a good excuse to get out and away from his sister so Verence turned on his heel and marched down the stairs, across the courtyard and out the gate. It would, it occurred to him, have been nice if the kingdom were big enough to justify his mounting a horse and riding to the clacks tower but the only horses in Lancre pulled plows, harrows and wagons. Besides it would have taken longer to put a saddle and bridle on one than it did to just walk to the tower.

“Wotcher, Prince!” Pewsey Ogg greeted the ‘spare’ to the throne lightly.

“Goin’ to the clacks tower, Pewsey,” Verence replied with a sour look, “It’s my turn. Want to come?”

“Would but can’t. Dad’s got me makin’ shoes for the coach horses that’ll be comin’ tomorrow and if I don’t have ’em ready for him I’ll be eatin’ my supper standin’ up.”

Pewsey was a big lad, as befitted a son of The Smith of Lancre, but his father was a man who looked less like he’d been born and more like he’d been constructed—in a shipyard! A thrashing by Jason Ogg was not something even the most enthusiastic masochist would look forward to. Both boys sighed at the unfairness of their lives and went their separate ways.

When Verence arrived at the tower the goblin in charge, Of the Shutters the Rattle, looked up at him with a grin and handed him an envelope.

“Wotcher, Princey! Is good you come today. Have message for the Castle, hot off the keyboard.”

“Really? That must be the first one in a month. Wonder what it’s about. Hmm, it’s addressed to Mum. Not likely any excitement there.”

He headed back the way he came.

Queen Magrat, consort to H.M. Verence II, took the envelope from her middle child.

“Thank-you, Verence.”

She opened it and read4. As she read her eyes opened wider and she muttered under her breath, “The Archchancellor? Coming here? Whatever would bring him—oh.”

4 Slowly, with her finger under the words

It had been ten years since Granny Weatherwax had died and she remembered his coming to the grave and mourning alone. No doubt he was returning for a memorial—and there was no appropriate inn for him to stay in. Well, that would never do!

“Verance, the Archchancellor is coming to visit. Tell Shawn and the others to make up a suitable room and tell the cook to stock up. Wizards like their meals large and frequent so we’d better be ready. And Verence, don’t let me catch you trying to impress the Archchancellor with magic. You’ve heard the stories of Granny Weatherwax? Well, they used to be—romantically involved. And they were a good match so think about that and imagine the power of the man.”

Verance started to open his mouth and deny that any such thoughts but the look in his mother’s eye stopped him cold. “Yes, Mother,” he replied meekly and hustled off as ordered. His mother was küçükçekmece escort a witch. His big sister was a witch and named after the most powerful witch of her generation and she was the Crown Princess. It wasn’t fair! If he couldn’t have the throne, shouldn’t he be allowed to become a Wizard? And now the Archchancellor himself was coming for a visit and all he could do was—was ask? After all, the worst think he could say was, “No”.

*****

Ridcully’s first trip to the Ramtops had been by coach and it had taken nearly two weeks. His second had, as well. The third had only taken a few hours but traveling by broomstick, while fast and just the ticket in an emergency, was cold and uncomfortable. He’d done it ten years ago but now he would take his time. Traveling alone in a first class cabin gave him time to think, to muse.

One summer, long ago, he’d chased a young witch. If she hadn’t run quite so fast would he have ever returned to the University? He didn’t know. Esme had said that in some other world, he’d caught up with her. He’d proposed and she had accepted. They’d had a good life and she’d been happy and, as she also said, she was hard to please so it must have been a very good life indeed. They’d had children and that meant it was his offspring who inherited the estates, not Hughnon’s. That was of no importance. His oldest nephew was showing good talent for estate management so the family properties were in good hands.

But what was Ridcully’s own legacy? Whatever it was going to be it would be notable. Wizards live exceptionally long lives and know5 when they’re due to die. He had a good run left and, having impressed his stamp on the faculty, would go down as one of the longest serving Archchancellors in the University’s millennium-long history. He’d also, and it was a point of pride, put an end to the endless attempts to advance one’s status through the tradition of ‘dead men’s pointy shoes’. The other wizards had all given up trying to kill him and most of the ones who had tried were now, decades later, finally recovered. Well, one still walked with a limp.

5 Like witches

It wasn’t like he needed a last will and testament. The estates and all they entailed belonged to the family, not him. His own personal possessions were, surprisingly, limited. His collection of fly rods and crossbows would return to the ‘gun room’ of the manor house. His books would go to the library. What else was there? His ‘earthly husk’, that’s what. And it was that subject that sent him to Lancre and the village of Bad Ass.

In an appropriately well maintained walled garden near the Ridcully manor house stood a mausoleum in which every member of the family, going back generations, was interred. Hughnon’s children and grandchildren would be scandalized if he didn’t join his forebears. However, much as he had enjoyed his time on the estates and much as he enjoyed his time as Archchancellor, neither the family mausoleum nor the University catacombs were where he wanted to spend eternity. There was this glade in the forest near Bad Ass. . .

Changing lines in Hot Dang, Ridcully continued his way to Lancre. He vaguely recalled an inn on the main square and hoped it still operated. The accommodations hadn’t been much but the beer had been satisfactory and he really didn’t intend to stay long. He just needed to find someone young enough to carry out his final desire. Thus it was with a certain surprise that when he detrained in Lancre City, he found a small contingent of the royal staff on the platform, waiting for him.

Shawn Ogg, older and greyer than the last time Mustrum had seen him, tugged at his forelock and said, “Archchancellor Ridcully, welcome back to Lancre. Their majesties ha’been apprised of your comin’ and invite you to accept their hospitality at Lancre Castle.”

Apprised at his coming? The only one who knew he was headed here was Stibbons. He must have sent a clacks ahead and given the little kingdom fair warning. After a moment’s thought, Ridcully decided he needed to thank his Vice-Chancellor. Staying in the Castle would probably be more comfortable than an inn—probably.

*****

Despite years of University fare, the Archchancellor still had a soft spot in his palate for rustic food and the dinner tonight was several orders of magnitude better than that. Rabbit pie is delightful but lapin en pâté feuilletée is a whole order of magnitude better, maybe two. So naturally the Archchancellor had had seconds. He thought about thirds but decided it would impose on his hosts. But the food was so good it made the Archchancellor think along unfamiliar lines.

“Realizin’ that the Doors to the elves are again firmly shut, the Castle’s defensive prop’ties are less important than in days of yore,” he began, “And given the talents of Your Majesties’ chef, have y’given any thought t’turnin’ part of it into a high class hotel?”

Verence II put down his fork. He’d spent the best part of the previous two decades trying to improve his subjects’ economic lives by introducing them to progressive farming techniques—with a notable lack of success6. It hadn’t occurred to him that he could improve the local prosperity using his own castle. And the advantage was that he didn’t have to convince anyone to do anything.

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Chapter 4 — Don’t give up on me

*** Present Day, in the staff room of the Draconic Alliance assault craft ***

Plasia and Diego were both sat around a small metal table in the staff room, a single dim blue light lit the room and was currently casting a long shadow behind Plasia due to its angle but her precious sapphire eyes were locked on the male, staring at him with nothing but love and adoration.

“I know I can be difficult sometimes, Diego. I know that. But as long as I’m away from Leech, I should be absolutely fine. I only lose control around her.” Plasia seemed confident, reaching out towards Diego’s hands across the table, the male softly stroked her skin as she did so.

“You absolutely sure, Plas? This is the last time I’ll ask though, we’re building this all on trust, right?” The male looked into her eyes with both concern and kindness.

“Completely. As long as you don’t give up on me, I’ll never give up on you! This’ll be fun, it’ll be nice to stretch all of our legs together… besides, you’re going to look like such a player with two huge Czarites at your side!” A sweet smile spread over her perfect face, her confidence was building with every day they spent together.

“Pfft! I can’t say my public image aboard this random ass space station is top priority for me. You ain’t wrong though! As long as I get to be in the middle!”

“You’ll always be in the middle, sweety boy.” Seeth appeared behind him, her seductive voice sending a shiver down both his and Plasia’s back, she ran her hands over his neck and ruffled his hair lovingly, taking a little time to appreciate the silky soft nature of his mane. “We’re only a few minutes away from landing, Oxyi says the station’s security officer wants everyone who wants to go aboard the ship at the dock for a safety brief or something so we should go suit up!”

The trio left together to get dressed as appropriately as they could, appearing along aside Oxyi and Geralt who also intended to board the station for a few hours with Tivy and Trent happy to stay behind on the ship just to keep tabs on things. Soon enough the ship docked and the airlock hissed open, allowing the group to walk aboard the station, coming into a modest sized security room, where three guards were waiting. Two in full riot uniform and a third who was a little more dressed down but still protected with heavy flak gear, the third security guard was a vibrant white female rat with soft rose eyes, she was attractive enough but was currently staring at the suspiciously large Czarites who were far taller than any she’d seen before.

“Welcome aboard Barru X station, I’m security officer Venner. Appreciate your warnings about the freighter, with whom was I speaking to?” The rat addressed the party quite confidently and didn’t seem too worried, despite her eyes darting between Seeth and Plasia.

Oxyi stepped forward and held her hand out to shake, which Venner accepted with a brief smile.

“That was me, names Oxyi. We won’t be here long, just getting some supplies and then we’ll be on our way.”

“No problem but I do have to insist upon a safety precaution with your… uh…. Czarites. You said they had some sort of infection?”

“Well yeah but they can’t pass it onto you unless you bang ’em. And trust me, they’re too busy banging him to want anything to do with you.” Oxyi stated the situation pretty casually, gesturing over her shoulder towards the threesome, Diego wasn’t exactly a small guy but he was completely dwarfed by the two alien’s standing at his sides, with their thighs and hips being larger than his entire torso.

“Be that as it may, I insist on having the Czarites in hazmat gear whilst they are on the station, I’ve taken the liberty of preparing some gear in those two security rooms over there. Can I ask for their names?”

“Purple one is Seeth, blue one is Plasia.” Oxyi’s eyes narrowed as she stared at Venner, noting that since she’d said their names, the rat kept glancing at Plasia in an unusual fashion.

Something’s wrong. Why does she keep staring at Plasia like that?

“Alright, Seeth if you could go to the one on the left, Plasia the one on the right. Its nothing to invasive or crazy, just some basic gear to ensure the safety of the people on board.” As she spoke, Venner felt Oxyi glaring at her. “I-its nothing to be worried about, honestly. Look, your message about the freighter spooked people and the top brass have just asked me to play it safe. I’ve picked out strider sized stuff for them too so it should all fit properly.”

Oxyi went to respond but felt Seeth’s hand on her shoulder.

“Its alright Oxyi, me and Plasia can handle ourselves. Venner was it? You wanted me to go to the right hand one?”

“The left! If you would. Plasia on the right, please.”

“Of course.” izmir escort Seeth and Plasia strode across the metal plating of the ship, heading to their separate security doors, Venner seemed a little tense but the other guards took no notice and seemed rather relaxed, not even bothering to stay on guard.

“Will there be anything else, Venner?” Oxyi asked, eyes like daggers pointed at Venner.

“Nothing. Your friends will come out in the lobby area, providing you’re not contaminated, I’m happy for the rest of you to move around as you please. You can find me on the 5th floor if you have any issues. Enjoy your stay on Barru X!” Venner made sure that Seeth and Plasia stepped through their respective doors before taking her guards and quickly departing, leaving Diego, Oxyi and Geralt standing in the security room together.

“I’m getting suspicious vibes off you Oxyi, what’s going on?” Diego lowered his voice to ensure the guards wouldn’t hear him but it appeared they’d cleared off already.

“I did not like the way she was eye fucking your girls, Diego. The way she was looking at Plasia, reminds me of sly little fuckers trying to pull a fast one on you, like they’re eyeing up your stuff before stealing it.”

“Any ideas what she might be up to…?”

“They ain’t gonna try and mug ’em, I can say that much, you’d have to be a total slop brain to try and mug an 8ft tall Czarite, the way Seeth walks with those tits of hers, even an idiot knows she’s got some serious strength. I don’t even think her guards were in on it either, but lets be careful. I also noticed she got strider sized PPE gear for the girls.”

“And what does that mean? Seems thoughtful to me.” Geralt queried, stretching his arms out idly.

“I didn’t tell her shit about Seeth’s size prior to landing. How did she know to get the right sized gear for them before we arrived…?”

*** Three days prior, in the hanger of the lost freighter ***

The freighter was once again alive with activity, bodies being dragged away, cargo being counted, the horde was winding down from their attack and busy repairing the damage done. From outside the ship, a tired and still annoyed Moltezz marched up the metal ramp, fire following her every step but the temperature around her was waning rapidly. Atop the ramp, Leech was waiting for her, looking rather pleased with herself and dragging three uncorrupted Czarites in chains, all of whom were glancing around nervously and quivering in fear.

“Finally! We get some luck. How damaged is this ship?” Moltezz huffed, seeing the prisoners behind Leech’s toxic form.

“Barely, its all surface damage. I’ve got the fresh Node’s we’ve acquired working to repair everything. Turns out a lot of the tech team were adaptable and took to the corruption well, we’ve got a sizeable squad of techie Node’s who are putting the 15,000 odd slaves we also got to use. All goes to plan, we can get this ship in the air tomorrow. Think we’ll return here…?” Leech remembered the earth shaking explosion that Moltezz erupted from not too long ago.

“About that. During my battle with my prince, I may have caused some severe structural damage to the dungeon. I think your lab is intact but we won’t be using it as a base any further.”

“Hold up- your prince…? You mean the fat butt lizard?” Leech raised an eyebrow.

“His posterior is rather thick… but yes. I do mean Diego.” Moltezz drummed her fingers against her palm as she spoke.

“How did he beat you by the way? I thought he was finished when he ran into you.”

“I… he…” Moltezz’s face flushed more red than usual and she broke eye contact sharply. “I fell victim to my urges. You know how it is.”

“Moltezz… did he get the better of you? I bet he used that thiccy posterior of his too.”

“He feigned surrender and caught me off guard. I was initially furious but I can appreciate the play he made and have decided not to take it personally.”

Before the conversation could continue, the sound of loud thudding footsteps rang out and “Lamp” arrived behind Leech, plastered with both blood and dripping black goo, coming to a stop next to Leech and looking out over the landing pad.

“Who is this, Leech?” Moltezz tilted her head, taking in “Lamp”‘s features.

“Why don’t you introduce yourself, La-“

“Ink. I want you to call me Ink, from now on.” She nodded towards Moltezz and the two weighed each-other up from their respective places.

“Ink… I like it. Ink, this is Moltezz, she’s the one who dealt with those bloody Quill-Belly’s and numerous other things. She’s on our side so play nice.”

“Of course. Anything for you, Leech.”

Moltezz looked at Leech, back to Ink and then at Leech again, comparing the two.

“Leech, do kahramanmaraş escort you think we pass on any sort of additional gifts depending on who does the corrupting? Like a hereditary corruption or something similar?”

“Maybe. Why don’t you fuck these three and see if they turn out like you?” Leech pulled on the chains of the three captives and passed it to Moltezz, who eagerly grabbed it from her, the chain warming fiercely at her touch, catching Ink’s eye. “We could do with more moody, hot snobs to throw around.”

“I will gladly test that for you. Hopefully your offspring won’t be as mouthy as you.” Moltezz took note of Ink’s massive teeth behind her black glossy lips. “Maybe not. We shall discover together, no doubt.”

“So… what’s the plan?” Ink asked, noticing the squadrons of Slave’s hauling cargo back onto the ship in perfect unison.

“The freighter had some smaller strike-craft in the hanger, we’re going to use those to hit the nearby stations and outposts whilst we pursue my prince. Both for him and to retrieve Seeth and Plasia.” Moltezz spoke with confidence but her tongue was flicking with a hint of venom as she spoke.

“Going straight after the prize huh? You that sour about losing to him?” Leech tilted her head, watching Moltezz with an ever widening grin.

“Not losing to him- but losing him. I will have what belongs to me, Leech. Beyond that, his potential to our cause is tremendous, I can feel it. He will bring us nothing but good fortune and victories.”

“And massive cum loads. I owe that prick a hate fuck or ten.” Leech was downplaying it but she had a mixture of emotions about the lizard.

“When he is returned to us, we can both take turns breaking him in but he will be mine in the end, you understand?”

“Yes Moltezz. I know, he’s your precious boy. I just want to see him gag on me a few times, OK? Fucker stole my best friend and my assistant.”

“For his crimes, I can arrange some time between you, certainly. But we need to arrange his capture first. I want this ship operational tonight, we waste no more time here. Pack up your lab and come back to the ship immediately.”

“T-tonight?! Fuck me, Moltezz. You’re gonna corrupt these three, get the horde packed up and the ship in the air in the next 10 hours? Bit ambitious don’t you think? Shouldn’t you be resting after you melted half the town and bunker?”

“Yes, I can rest on the ship, every minute this ship isn’t in the air, we’re losing him, Leech. We need to get moving immediately. What say you, Ink? I can feel that Leech has given you some authority, presumably as a replacement for Seeth.”

“I am deeply curious about this male you seem so interested in but I have a target of my own I’d like to pay a visit to. My old boss who saw fit to withhold money that I rightfully earned, I would very much like to give him a taste of the new me.” Ink licked her lips as she spoke, her tentacles hanging in the air like spines ready to strike.

“We’ll give you a strike-craft and you can depart as soon as the ship leaves the planet.” Moltezz nodded. “I like ambition. Makes a change from Seeth moping around the dungeon. I have things I need to attend to so I’ll leave you both but do not be late for the departure. We have an empire to build and a man to break.” With the words uttered, Moltezz dragged the three captives with her into the hanger and left Leech and Ink together.

“Ugh, its so annoying she wants to leave today.” Leech mused, glancing over at Ink’s body.

“How so? The sooner we leave, the sooner you get to “hate fuck” this man you’re both after.”

“Because I wanted a few hours with you.”

Ink recoiled slightly in surprise, her tentacles subtly shielding her body from Leech’s gaze.

“M-me?” An intense blush overtook her as Leech’s words sunk in.

“Mhmm. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but you’re gorgeous. I usually wouldn’t ask but if you’re willing, I’d love to have some mutual fun together and we can see what you’re capable of. I bet you’ve got a monster down there like me. Buuuuuut it looks like that’ll have to wait for now, at least until we’re in the air.”

“Then lets get this ship up in the air and find out together.” Ink’s grin returned to her and she turned around to march back into the ship, her tentacles slipping around Leech’s back and guiding her into the ship, which she followed with a skip in her step, both excited for the ship to be in the air for many, many reasons.

*** Present Day, within the Barru X space station ***

Plasia stepped through the security door which led her into a short, plain corridor with another door at the end of it, there was nothing unusual about the corridor but as she stepped forward, she felt her heart thump manavgat escort in her chest, something was urging her not to proceed into the following room.

Come on… You’re away from him for two minutes and you’re already having an anxiety episode? I can beat this… I can do this, its just putting on some clothes…

She stepped towards the door again and felt her breath drop from her lungs, clutching at her chest as fear and pain filled her, heart slamming against her ribs like it was trying to escape, bracing herself against the wall, sucking in air slowly and exhaling as calmly as possible, letting the anxiety wash over her.

That’s it, just breathe it through, you’ve done this a million times.

Slowly, she regained control of her emotions, the pain in her chest fading and warm station air filled the void in her chest again, although her heart was still racing, she was able to breathe properly once more. She took a few more seconds to steady herself and then stood up straight, walking to the door on the opposite end of the corridor.

As she reached it, another wave of anxiety shot through her, making her hands tremble uncomfortably, sharp dagger-like pains shot through-out her chest, making her blood run cold., the air felt like sand-paper carving up her throat with every breath she took.

I-i can’t still be this pathetic, can I? Even though I’m over 8ft tall, I’m still so small on the inside… I still can’t handle the most simple of tasks alone… N-no. I will beat this. I won’t let this control me!

Plasia steadied herself once more, air in slowly and blowing it back out through pursed, pained lips. The door slid open when she approached a little closer and revealed another smallish room, with a rack of gear against the wall, a mirrored wall and another door that presumably went out onto the station floor. There was no one waiting to attack her or anything unusual about this area at all. Still, her anxiety would not calm.

Pressing on, she approached the rack, seeing a full set of black latex protective gear, including a large gas mask. She didn’t blame them, her and Seeth were dangerous.

The overall was squeaky clean and she began to pull herself into it one limb at a time, despite it being sized appropriately her height, it wasn’t built for a bust like hers or Seeth’s and it wouldn’t zip up all the way, but it was better than nothing. Her mind went back to the anxiety attack she just had, she felt so silly. This was harmless and it put people at ease.

She huffed loudly, annoyed with herself and looked at the gas mask, would this be her life from now on? Would it be so bad if it was only in public places?

As she reached out to the gas mask, a final wave of anxiety hit her, stronger than before, bringing her hand to a shuddering stop.

“No! I won’t let this stupid, unfounded anxiety beat me! Enough is enough!” Her thoughts were spoken out loud to project them more definitively. She lurched forward and seized the mask with a single hand, pulling it from the rack.

As she did so, she saw something fall from its insides, a small glass vial containing green liquid and what looked like a note of some sort, it fell too fast for her to catch as it had been loosely taped to the inside of the mask and instantly shattered upon hitting the ground.

The smell hit her instantly, it was too late.

Leech.

Eyes closed, her tongue flopped loosely from her mouth and she collapsed to her knees. Anxiety gone. This creature had no anxiety. When she opened her eyes again, her glassy orb-like iris’s were replaced with the hunter-like slits of her other half.

She went to the floor, licking up the green fluid with her tongue and swallowing as much as she could, picking the shattered glass up and licking it clean expertly. The note caught her eye and she plucked it out, unravelling it and glancing through it quickly, before reading it a second and third time more carefully as it caught her attention.

The hunger was building within her, she could detect so many easy pickings, the choice was almost overwhelming.

“The note! The note knows! Play along! Be the good girl. THEY-WON’T-KNOW-THEY-WON’T-KNOW-THEY-WON’T-KNOW!”

She pressed the note into her cleavage and scrabbled for the gas mask, retracting her tongue and pulling it tight over her face, securing it by the straps. Once on, she shook her head around to ensure it stayed put and checked herself out in the mirror. She played the plan through in her head, and spent a couple of minutes refining her body language and posture to more closely mimic her other half, going from a ravenous hunter to a shy bookworm.

Cackling madly to herself as it came together, she muttered the words with a gutteral growl through the muffled seal of the gas mask clasped over the face-

“IT WILL BE PERFECT.”

Wiping what goo was dripped on her away and leaving the room through the final door, she arrived into the main mall area where everyone was waiting for her, all unaware of what had just transpired.

“Hey Plas! What took you so long? We were worried something happened!”

“O-oh n-nothing. Just had to c-change.”

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