Lords of Itaea

[Katamari Roller]

Brita sighed into Slythe's chest, relieved that he bore no ill will towards her, or the slave. Beyond that which he already did, that is. But that was far from her hand to handle. Speaking of her hand, it hurt again, and she moved it away from the hug, fearful of doing a wrong movement and opening the wound again. She could barely move her fingers, and shouldn't.

Again wrapped in Slythe's embrace and dark clothes, Brita felt happier now that any danger was past. Although his words about an invasion were not inviting calmness, Brita knew Slythe's defenses were strong, and many enemies would perish should they try to attack. That sadistic thought was admonished off her mind inmediately, but Brita had tasted just a little bit of it...

And the 'project'... that sounded interesting. Brita moved her head away to look into Slythe's eyes. His visage was tortured in suffering, a map of pain and blood scribbled on his skin, but Brita saw beyong that. And what she saw, she half-feared, and half-loved. She stared at Slythe, as an indication that she wanted to know how she could help her master.

 

[One Eyed Jack]

Pravus gets his Witch

Holding back a chuckle; laughing at a woman before you bed her was typically not well received, but her innocence, and her straight forward, almost flat words were contrasted by pulling herself closer to him. Definitely an amusing girl.

“Then you shall have your exploration, and I shall have mine.” His hands that had caressed her back slid up to her shoulders and spun her around to face away from him. Examining the laces that fastened the dress to his woman, he stared at them like an unwelcome obstacle. Withdrawing the dagger from his belt, he pulled on the strings, holding them away from her skin as the blade moved through the laces almost as if they were not there. Satisfied that the garment was as good as gone, he re-sheathed the blade and let his hands run beneath the now parting wool of her dress, slipping it down her shoulders. “For myself, I’ve never enjoyed the company of a woman whose power had to be so…respected. Just my fortune that you come as such a beautiful creature; and one who needs something of me.”

His hands pulled on her, to turn back around and face him, but not with the force that she was originally turned away. Those grey eyes hide a great deal, but still looked afraid and eager simultaneously. That she faced her fear made his heart leap; even his slaves, who’s lives held no other purpose could not face their fear of him so boldly.

“You are an interesting puzzle Tharalon, I shall enjoy unraveling you…” He let his words preempt a different unraveling, as his hands pushed her dress lower, off her arms to gather around her small waist. He pushed pooled material again, and let it fall to the floor at her feet; leaving her standing in just her thin chemise.

He was not known as a gentle lover, but knew she would require….restraint, on his part. He stepped away from the woman in only her undergarment and began removing some of his own articles. The belt with the dagger and sword were first, hitting the deck with a clatter. Next he released several buttons on his coat, and let it too slip the floor. His boots and socks followed, and then took a step toward her; clear of the pile he had made. “You seemed to enjoy what you saw before, I hope you’re not disappointed with what lay beneath the fine coats.” He joked, as he pulled the shirt over his head, exposing well-defined muscles and slightly bronzed skin that was marred by several small scars that he’d collected over the years in battle. He unbuckled the loose pants, and let them drop, taking the last step to her, where he could pull her body to his again for another deep kiss.

 

[LitShark]

Brita looked up with wide, expectant eyes. Slythe smiled down at her as she looked quizzically up at him, wondering what this poject was. Slythe reluctantly left her embrace, picking up a large iron tube from outside. The heavy iron item, was about 3 feet tall and 2 feet around in the hollow center.

"These, I need 5 or 6 of these." Slythe said to Brita, folding his arm around her again after he'd set the thing down. "Its not huge, but it's very dense... about how long do you think one will take?"

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

Morgiana watched Olam coming toward her. She shielded her eyes from the rain that was pelting down on her and her men. Her horse tossed his head back and forth, as well as stomped his feet, wanting to act out on the anger he felt in his Mistress.

When Olam reached her side, Morgiana calmed and her stallion felt the difference immediately.

"Bring him his steed," she demanded of one of the younger stable lads.

Quickly a mount, one that Olam was familiar with was brought forth and she waited for him to ready himself. Once all was prepared, she and her men as well as her magician set off into the thick woods of Entaca.

It wasn’t long into the trip that one of the men spotted a few of her men heading back to the keep. She dismounted and learned that the first wave of her assault had taken place with no injuries on her end.

"The gods have not yet abandoned us," she said with a crooked grin. She ordered the initial assault teams back to the castle where they were to eat and then rest, but remain on alert to the slightest hint of danger.

They bid her farewell and once again she mounted up. She looked to Olam and wondered if she should try and protect him by sending him back to the castle. A part of her however wanted him with her, and it was that part that drove her to keep him close to her person.

As they resumed their march toward the third and final fortress that Pravus held, she hoped that few men were lost in the taking of the second attack.

 

[Katamari Roller]

Brita leaned towards the object, trailing Slythe behind her as she surveyed the iron tube with unbridled curiousity. It was a strange thing indeed. She picked it up with her gauntlet, pulled it up, and looked down the hollow inside. It definitely was somewhat heavy, but still small... Brita felt her mind already wrap around the object, touching it with the curiousity reflected in her eyes.

Why Slythe would want to replicate this thing was beyond her comprehension. It looked like a pipe, sort of, but Slythe needed no pipes now, did he? Maybe it could be used as a weapon... but how? All of these questions moved like a thread, as like a thread her consciousness and unconsciousness studied the tube. Yes... it would not take too long. One day per tube, so she should have all of them ready in a week, or less.

There was one problem, though. Would the wound on her fingers affect her powers somehow? Brita frowned about, thinking that she didn't want to let Slythe down just because of a little cut...

Looking back at him, Brita's gauntlet creaked as the index extended, and she mouthed 'day'. She hoped this was fast enough for him...

 

[LitShark]

Even as Brita's gauntlet fingers tapped the outside of the dense metal the sound resonated softly. 1 day per tube, perfect. Slythe again smiled his crooked little smile down at Brita.

"That will be perfect my dear Brita."

In the meantime Slythe had another wicked plan hatching in his devious brain.

"I may ride out in the morning Brita. Rhonwen and a few elite guards are going to go to the battlefields though I have no intention of wading into this advantageous conflict. But I've heard reports that Morgiana's forces are moving quickly, almost without incident through Pravus' men. I aim to level the playing field just enough to ensure a much bloodier campaign."

The devious grin on Slythe's face grew wider, even now Kannet was likely readying the trebuchet outside. Finally they would be able to use up that old cart of diseased livestock that Slythe insisted be kept near the swamp.

All of this disease, pestilence and death (appealing though it was), could wait until tomorrow, for now his mind and body were weary from evil, and the warm embrace of his childlike, young mage beckoned him.

 

[Katamari Roller]

Brita frowned slightly, a mix of fear and puzzlement. She knew nothing about war, but if Pravus and Morgiana fought only each other, then Slythe would have no problem sweeping them aside afterwards, right? Why attack now to favour one of his enemies? That would only make this a three sides war... which it already was.

Still, Brita smiled, and dropped herself into Slythe's arms with a sincere, happy heart, wrapping her arms around him. But, she made the wrong move, and she yelped slightly, recoiling in pain.

It was her hand again. Tears of pain welled in her eyes, as she looked down at her wounded fingers. It had opened again, and new blood stained her bandages. If only she had some Ice Root, maybe she could make a powerful healing ointment, but Brita was not with her people anymore, or even in their lands. Yet, she was quite content with the greenery of these territories. Life here seemed... alive.

Even her blood seemed more red...

 

[LitShark]

Slythe’s smile melted away when Brita recoiled in pain, she had been hurt worse than he realized. As she held her human hand with her gauntlet Slythe took her hand in is. Gentle would not be the first word most would associate with Slythe Zathu, but in this moment, the way he cradled her hand was soft as a whisper, his fingertips barely dancing across her skin like flower pedals in the wind.

“My God Brita… That wretched whore did this to you?” Slythe lamented through gritting teeth. “I’ll kill her I’ll kill that fucking…”

Slythe stopped abruptly, seeing that his anger was upsetting Brita further. He slowly and carefully unwrapped the bandage around her hand, carefully pulling the damp cloth away from her soft, blood-stained skin.

Using a small basin of warm water that he kept near his bed Slythe slowly and gently ran water over her hand, washing the blood away.

Slythe kept first aid supplies in his bedroom due to his nasty habit of hurting those who were sent to pleasure him. Those same supplies were now coming in handy for his beloved witch.

Some gauze slowly patted her hand dry and clean so that he could see the wound and ensure it was clean. In a keep full of toxic blooded soldiers infection spread easily. Slythe then began to re-wrap her hand, looking soothingly into her eyes, with sincere affection behind his own.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

Bellatonia reaches out. . .

Lisheeda jerked awake as something crawled across her ankle. She jumped up, squealing and running her hands quickly down her bruised and battered body. A shudder of revolution filled her as she thought of what had been crawling all over her. She fell to her knees and quickly began to throw up what little acids and fluids her stomach had produced during her slumber.

When she recovered and took several calming breaths, she carefully walked over to her cell door. She peeked through the cracks and then pressed her ear against the door. “It’s dead,” a voice whispered in her ear.

Lisheeda jerked around and stared at the ghostly image of herself leaning against one of the walls. “Do you think so?” she asked.

“It must be, whatever it was . . . a man or a woman, either way the beating is over. You should be proud. You lasted longer.” The ghostly image moved toward Lisheeda and she backed away.

“Why are you here?” she asked it, as she moved toward another corner, and kneeled to sweep the rat dung and creatures that called the space home away.

“I told you I am here to help you. I’ve always been here, watching out for you, keeping you safe, keeping you company. You just never gave me a name before. You honor your mother.”

“My mother was a beautiful woman,” she whispered and sat down, pulling her legs into her chest. Her stomach began to cramp and she whimpered as the pangs of hunger began to settle deep within her. “Do you think I will rot to death here?” she asked herself.

“No. You aren’t that lucky. I will be the one he takes though. Never you Lisheeda.” Bellatonia reached out and touched Lisheeda’s hair. “He doesn’t know your name and never will. He may take your body. I may claim your mind, but he will never have your soul.”

Lisheeda nodded her head and then leaned against the wall, letting her Bellatonia comfort her with soft murmurs of a song from her childhood. The rats watched the lone slave woman, curled in a ball, her lips moving as if she were singing to them.

 

[Nibbles_n_Tits]

Tharalon

“Then you shall have your exploration, and I shall have mine.” She saw him smile as he spoke, it was one of his rare easy smiles, lacking the usual hint of mockery most of his smiles carried, and despite herself, she smiled in return. Before she could speak, however, his hands moved from her back to her shoulders and forcefully spun her to face the large bed. In her surprise, she drew a deep breath, and slowly exhaled, seeing nothing but the bed, hearing nothing but her own breathing and feeling nothing but the weight of her committed course.

Her hands limply hung at her sides, as she wondered what she was supposed to do. Did he expect her to climb on to the bed? Should she undress or would he simply lift her skirt? She frowned, for that she could taken a soldier and avoided any possible entanglements. With those thoughts in her head, she could feel nothing but relief when she felt him pull on the lacing of her gown and then cut through them, opening her gown from neck to hip. His hands slid beneath the dress, parting the open seem and baring her shoulders. Silent modesty nearly moved her to raise her hands to catch the dress and pull it back up to her neck, but she nervously held them still for the moment she stood there.

“For myself, I’ve never enjoyed the company of a woman whose power had to be so…respected. Just my fortune that you come as such a beautiful creature; and one who needs something of me.”

“My power exists only to support you, my lord.” She knew all the real power was his, not only in authority as her lord but as a man with strength enough to snap her neck. All she had was the possibility of gift she could not even control. Once again, she saw she was putting herself in his hands; it was a frightening and exciting thought.

Then he guided her around to face him. Facing him again, she felt a measure of comfort return, not enough to dissipate her fears but enough to allow her to keep them in check. Facing him, she could read him better, not well, but better, and she was satisfied with that small consolation.

“You are an interesting puzzle Tharalon; I shall enjoy unraveling you…”

“My, lord, unraveling…”

She trailed into silence as his hands pushed her dress from her shoulders down to her waist. She watched his eyes as the dress slid to the floor in a dark pool of soft wool at her feet. The delicate chemise that cover her skin gave no protection from the cool air or his keen eyes, one or the other made her shiver but she could not say which. He stepped away from her, not far, barley a step but it was enough to leave her feeling exposed, vulnerable in only a thin chemise that did little to hide her body. The urge to cover herself, hide behind her hands was strong but a weakness she would not disclose. She couldn’t hold them still, but wouldn’t allow them to reveal her disquiet. Instead, as her eyes watched him remove his coat and his boots with a curiosity bordering on boldness, her hands raised to her head. She removed the pins and pulled out the ribbon that held her hair in a neat coiling crown around her head and let it fall in a long curling wave down her back. Her fingers were smoothing through her hair as he stepped back to her.

“You seemed to enjoy what you saw before, I hope you’re not disappointed with what lay beneath the fine coats.”

She swallowed a sharp breath as he pulled his shirt over his head. Tharalon had seen many naked men but no injured fisherman or ailing peasant could present a figure anything like hard-training warrior prince. Strong muscles moved under a layer of healthy, golden skin that was marked but not marred by well-healed battle scars. Even as he unbuckled his pants, she was reaching out with a single finger to trace the line of a pale scar near his waist. She saw his pants fall to the floor and felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she lifted her gaze to his face.

“My lord…” He took the step, closing the distance between them until it ceased to exist. Only the thin veil of her gauzy chemise separated their bodies, only her hand trapped between them made the contact incomplete when he pulled her body to his. The press of his lips on hers was hard and the kiss deep, it was a kiss of taking not giving and had she wanted it less it would have been frightening. Her free hand moved up his arm and reached for his shoulder, her fingers dug into the hard muscle. She needed something to hold on to; she needed to hold on to him as she parted her lips beneath his and searched for his tongue with her own.

 

[Tseranc]

Olam rode silently along side his Mistress when he could, often falling back to allow her military advisor's near. When word came of the initial attacks success, he seemed to glow. The She Wolf was out.

Ultimately they turned and headed toward where the third strike would take place, apparently her plans for the second one were already in motion and she could not affect them at this time. He wished for peace, and wondered what such a dream might cost.

Finally, as the sun began to fall from the sky, she allowed the troops to set camp. He dismounted and went about helping the soldiers and their support in setting up the defenses. He set wards to alert everyone should anyone cross them, and told the captains what to listen for and to keep their men inside. He had no wish to see fighting done, but if it must come, then let his protection…and Morgiana’s…be prepared.

Later, when all was set he sat outside her tent, smoking a pipe outside of earshot; being accused of eavesdropping would not do in a war, he was certain. So he just sat cross-legged, and meditated, letting the earth recharge him.

As he meditated, he could not help but fear for the battle between the wolf and the falcon. Despite her claim, he very much felt the lack of any Gods to walk with him in his journey for answers. They were alone on this rock, with nothing but the malice of mankind to fuel them.

Eventually he hear men leaving and opened his eyes to see a few of them gesture at the odd man sitting on the grass. They laughed and walked away. Apparently Generals were fools, walking out of their Mistresses’ tent to mock the man who was a near to a lover as he’d ever known her to take. IF they knew, they would be jealous. That brought a smile to his face as he nodded at the departing fools.

 

[Katamari Roller]

Brita was scared when Slythe became enraged at the slave. True, she had hurt her, but she had done so in a panic, right? The slave was trying to escape, perhaps she thought Brita wanted to stop her from escaping, while she really was trying to keep her from killing herself. Would Slythe understand that?

When he calmed down, so did Brita. And as he helped her, she smiled. His tenderness when taking care of her wound... that was what she loved in him, not the power he held, the riches or slaves. Brita was above caring for those. In retrospect, it was a bit ironic, seeing how she could replicate any metal.

Brita did not wince in pain once. It had, by now, become a dull ache, and that could not be owed to infection seeing how the apothecary and Slythe's own skills were great in dealing with that. As Slythe wrapped her hand in bandages, Brita felt happier than ever... which was a bit sad for her, in a sense. Being born without voice was a burden she carried on her shoulders when she was with her people, a bad omen of things to come. And after losing her hand, things did not improve. Until she met Slythe, that is.

Brita leaned forward, and kissed Slythe's cheek. Despite the horrible scars, indication of terrible battles and skirmishes, Brita saw nothing wrong with him. She did not understand why a person's appearance should dictate people's feelings towards them, and she lived true to that creed...

 

[LitShark]

Slythe bowed his head to hide the childlike grin that took hold of the corners of his mouth when Brita kissed him. The Dark Lord even blushed a bit as he continued bandaging her hand. He desired to make love to Brita, right there in his chamber, but knew that desire all too well. He had carried the weight of his lust for Brita so long that it warmed him like a heavy coat. He'd grown used to the feeling and now that forbidden desire heated him again.

A gentle kiss on her finished bandage was the only reply he allowed himself to give her. Her chastity was far more important than his desires.

"I must go..." Slythe strained wearily to utter. "We'll need to ride out tonight in order to have proper seats for the battle tomorrow... You will stay here, work on those pipes tomorrow. One of us should get some sleep at least."

Slythe caressed the side of Brita's face again, gently touching her. Despite his caring touch his eyes betrayed him. He was exhausted but behind the exhaustion there burned a fire... his bloodlust was rising once again.

The very thought of bloodshed... Slythe could almost hear the agonized screams of the dieing masses... Yes a battle was neigh, he'd see blood before he saw rest.

Slythe swooped from the room, swiping his skull mask over his face before he left.

"Alright! Bring me Rhonwen, we ride out now!" Slythe bellowed as he stormed toward the main throneroom. "Kanet! You'd better have supplied the things I asked for!"

Slythe waited in the throneroom as his light leather armor was strapped to his body and he was draped in a thick but light cloak. Slythe looked out onto the snowy mountainside, Kanet had delivered.

 

[One Eyed Jack]

As their tongues fenced and danced, lips pulling each nearer, his hands drifted down to the thinly covered hips and began gathering the material into his fists. Higher and higher his first rose, continuing to pull at the fabric separating them until he reached her arms. Stepping away reluctantly, their kiss was broken, and he nudged her arms up, so he could pull the cloth over her head.

Discarding the chemise, his eyes hungrily took in her naked form. He looked down to his arms, where he was sure tiny bruises would appear in the morning, where her fingers had dug in, either in need or fear of him. “You’re beautiful Tharalon, a perfect, untouched flower waiting to be picked.” He closed the distance once more but did not stop when their lips met; but instead continued to push forward until she fell back onto the soft bed. She scurried under him, as he continued to advance until they were both comfortably centered on the mattress, he straddling her hips, and pressing his lips to hers.

He began kissing, with intermittent nips at her skin, descending down her neck and across her chest. He looked up grinning, knowing she had never had a man tease her as he was about to. His grin disappeared as he took one pink erect nipple into his mouth; sucking and gently biting at the swollen nub.

His hands were everywhere, caressing then pulling on her skin, then soothing another site; always moving, always building up the fire in the woman beneath him.

He enjoyed himself, and enjoyed the need to put so much effort into an act that had become so common and unfulfilling. She put excitement back, for he knew he could be dead with a touch, even if she didn’t know her own power – maybe that made it more dangerous?

 

[brigid_fitch]

Rhonwen

Puffing away at some rolled tobacco, Rhonwen looked at her cards. By burying herself in the game, she hoped to get the image of Frost out of her head--the noble warrior, defiant to the last, he refused to make so much as a sound no matter what Slythe had thrown at him. Even as they closed the dungeon door, his fierce gaze never left her face. Such a waste, she thought. If he had some grand plan, she wished he'd act upon it soon. Otherwise, she may be forced to admit that the man she had had so much respect for was in fact a sham. Perhaps there was no great scheme in getting himself caught; maybe, just maybe, the imbecile had simply stumbled across the Shadow Guard by accident, resulting in his capture. No subterfuge, no ruse--just plain stupidity. What a waste, she thought again. Shaking the notion from her mind, she concentrated again on the game.

She tried not to show her eagerness as the trick unfolded, watching as the other players unwittingly gave her the best advantage as they began to discard. She had always loved playing Minchiate--it was much like a battle. Feint and attack, with the winner gathering the spoils. Even better, was playing cards in a barracks, among other warriors, the only people she now felt comfortable to be among. She was last to the trick, the best position, and she waited patiently to play her next card, the one which would win her the game. She had a lot of money at stake, and this hand would undoubtedly win her the pot.

The player to her right laid down the Gemini card and she feigned consternation, fumbling with her hand as though he had spoiled her play. The other soldiers laughed and jeered, anticipating that she would lose this hand. They had reluctantly allowed her to play, plied only by the fistful of gold she laid on the table as her ante. But she had the trump card, and, sure of her inevitable win, let them build up their confidence. It made watching the slack-jawed look on their faces that much sweeter as she gathered up her winnings.

Before she could discard, Kanet burst into the room.

"Rhonwen!" He shouted. "Time to earn your keep! Slythe wants you ready to ride within the hour!"

The white-haired mercenary didn't look up, nor gave any indication of hearing him. Kanet may be Slythe's Man-at-Arms, but she was the Dark Lord's General. The two were of equal rank as far as Slythe was concerned, therefore Kanet was in no position to order her anywhere. Rhonwen continued to rearrange the cards in her hand.

"Bitch, didn't you hear what I said? Get your ass up to the throne room now!"

"Whatever it is can wait until the hand is finished," she said calmly, ignoring the insult and blowing smoke rings as she continued to survey her cards. The other soldiers in the barracks became nervous. Kanet was known for his temper. Since Slythe treated him like a whipping boy most of the time, he was well-known to take out his frustrations on those of lesser rank. "I evidently have an hour."

Kanet, fuming, unused to being dismissed by anyone, let alone some woman, strode over to Rhonwen's side. She was certain he'd attempt to strike her, a grievous error on his part, and readied herself for a fight. Instead, Kanet merely loomed over her, red-faced, panting in his fury. He leaned down to her, as if to whisper something into her ear. Rhonwen made a tight fist, tensed herself to parry the first blow.

"She's got The Juggler," he instead exclaimed to the other players, at which point they all scrambled for some of the gold that had formed a small mound in the center of the table.

"You bastard!" She seethed, lunging for the gold that would have been rightfully hers. However, she was only able to reclaim about half of her original ante--the rest was gone, the other players having run from the barracks before she could catch them. No matter, she thought. You all have to sleep sometime...

She turned her attention to Kanet, who was grinning like the fool she knew him to be.

"One day, Kanet, on the battlefield, you'll be needing me at your back. And at that crucial moment, I won't be there," she vowed, her blue eyes like ice piercing through his soul. She calmly walked over to her bunk and began donning her armor. "Make certain my horse is ready. I'll ride out immediately after meeting with Slythe." Kanet left without another word, still grinning.

Rhonwen, now fully dressed and more comfortable now that she was in her custom armor, walked to the throne room. She almost laughed at the picture before her--Slythe sitting upon a raised granite throne, intricately carved. It was meant to be imposing, but Rhonwen found it laughable. No one in their right mind would actually choose to sit on cold, hard stone, even if it were just for effect. But, then again, she reminded herself, no one could argue that Slythe actually was in his right mind.

"Slythe, Kanet tells me I am to ride out tonight. What is the mission?"

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

"Send in my meal as well as Olam, then do not disturb me unless it is detrimental," Morgiana ordered.

She rolled her shoulders and waited for her magician to come to her. During that time she poured over the maps and the numbers as well as the sheet that her scribe had written during the gathering of her generals.

A sound came from the opening of the tent and she waved the servant over to the corner where a table and two folding stools were set up. Cold water was poured, and she knew it came from the stores, for during war times her men knew to drink nothing but what was brought from her stores, as well as what dried meat that was packed.

The servant left and soon another entered. "Olam," she whispered and then turned to smile up at her magician, "come and lay with me," she said, rising and pulling her tunic from her small, yet fit form.

 

[Tseranc]

Olam entered the tent as instructed by one of the leaving men, and was shocked by the greeting. Regaining his senses quickly, he managed to reply, “Yes my Mistress.”

His eyes bulged as the sight of her, and knew his manhood was not far behind. For someone so dark, and capable of such cruelty, her body was positively heavenly. Her voice was softer with him now though; perhaps the ice queen was melting, and the woman with a still beating heart was emerging. He let himself believe that, and felt he was watching a butterfly break free of its cocoon.

Hoping he understood correctly, he began peeling off his own clothes, first removing his precious cloak and draping it gently over a chair. The rest was removed with considerably great haste, being piled beside where the cloak hung.

Soon they both stood naked, save for his bracers and a few bits of jewelry between them. He cast his eyes down, not wanting to appear over eager. “I live but to serve you, Mistress Morgiana.” If she thought he relished these moments too much he figured he’d soon be replaced, and his heart and hope might fail.

At her gesture he climbed onto the bed, large for the circumstances, and looked up to the warlord, the mistress of death that was the girl his heart had at first pitied, and later came to foolishly love.

 

[LitShark]

“Rhonewn, at last!” Slythe exclaimed as he leapt down from his icy throne. “Follow, I’ll explain on the way.”

By now his eyes were burning with murderous intent, battle so close he could taste it. As the crunch of dense snow replaced the hollow thud under Slythe’s boots he exited his cave and mounted his mighty black horse who awaited him. Rhonwen’s chosen steed was there as well.

Beside the horses a huge wooden edifice loomed large and ominous. The massive trebuchet was lashed to a pair of oxen and behind that was a huge wooden cart, wielded by two grim looking, skull-masked soldiers.

The second the duo walked into the thin mountain air, the stench from the cart assailed their nostrils. 8 dead and diseased cattle lay atop one another, rotting away in the bed of the cart.

Slythe began slowly navigating his way down the meandering path around the traps, the convoy of huge wooden implements of war trailing not far behind the Dark Lord and his Mercenary.

“They’re fighting eachother for the moment so we want to remain as uninvolved as possible. But soon after, the winner will come for us… This tactical strike is to ensure that this war is every bit as messy as the one that will be waged on these grounds.” Slythe’s tone was insidious, he was obviously getting pleasure from even talking about gory battles. “The party before you is a very elite strike team, two scouts are awaiting our arrival from a safe staging area, there we will deposit our cargo over the battlefields, spreading wide-scale infection over both armies. Eventually they will come for us, the two behind me will cover our escape to the best of their abilities but be ready to fight.”

The two grim looking men nodded somberly at their mention. The cart clattered over exposed rocks as the party reached the tree-line where the snow tapered off.

“I don’t want happy eager soldiers at my doorstep… I want them beleaguered and afraid.” Slythe hissed, as much to himself as anyone else. “They will be afraid, they will remember the day that the skies rained death.”

 

[Nibbles_n_Tits]

Tharalon

At first, the kiss had so distracted Tharalon that she did not notice Pravus’ hands on her hips, lifting the hem of her chemise. She felt the warmth of his hands and his fingers brushing her skin through the delicate material before she realized what he was going. She felt his finger graze against the uncovered skin of her waist as he broke the kiss and moved away from her. As he tugged at the material, she raised her arms and he tore the garment over her head.

Tharalon kept her eyes on his face as she pushed back the curls that fell over her shoulders. She felt brazen, boldly exposing herself to his gaze but her pride defeated her modest urges. She could read the darkness in his eyes; her body did not disappoint him.

“You’re beautiful Tharalon, a perfect, untouched flower waiting to be picked.”

He was against her again, his lips to hers, his body pressed to hers but before she could lean into him, he drove her backward, directing her towards the bed until she spilled into it. An unwilling virgin would have tried to scurry away but naked and in her lord’s bed is where Tharalon chose to be, with his weight barely touching her she slid to the comfortable center of the big bed.

He straddled her hips and she had time for one last fear-masking nervous smile before he pressed his lips to hers. Soon he drove away thoughts of things like nerves and smiles with the touch of his hands, the press of his lips and the nips of his teeth. She saw him look up at her with a grin on his lips that spread to his eyes; the smile held a secret.

“My lord…?” Her breathy question was interrupted by a soft moan as his lips took her nipple, his mouth sucking, and teeth lightly biting the soft swelling flesh. She pushed her shoulders into the bed, curling her back and pressing her breast to his mouth. Her hands reached out to touch him, the gold of his hair falling around her fingers, the strength of his shoulders smooth beneath her touch. There was no grabbing or clutching in her touch, no threat of bruises as her hands explored what they could reach, she had had many men in her hands but none felt like Pravus, none had she wanted to feel.

Feel… Touch… Hands…

She could feel his touch, his hands everywhere, all over her skin. Teasing and easing her with his caresses, his touch brought a flush of pink to her fair skin and drove her to find her breath in light pants. Uncertain, she struggled against her body’s urge to move beneath him. She wrapped her hand in a fist around the blankets in an effort to hold her body still but her body would not be frustrated by her mind’s confusion. Her hands untangle from the blankets and reach for him again as her body stirs, writhing, and pushing into his hands, seeking out his touch. Her hips shifting, her legs press together and then relax as the heat of her desire spreads to places still untouched.

 

[One Eyed Jack]

She was putty in his hands. Her skin heated under his touch, and she wiggled and squirmed – not in an attempt to escape but to feel more; to press herself into him. It was wonderful o have such an honest, unconditioned response to his actions for once.

He moved lower, still treating her tits to whatever pleasures his mouth could bring them, as his hand flowed over her skin, down her stomach, around her hip and back up the inner thigh. Slowly he inched further up until his fingers danced across her moist pedals. Cupping her pussy, he massaged it without invading for a moment, until her legs clamped down around his hand instinctively.

He hooked his foot over hers and pulled on leg away, giving him room and exposing her once again. Slowly his thumb parted her lips and began rubbing circles around her clit. More moisture followed, and he grinned.

“I want to be the first to taste you.” He said, and that was all the warning she was given, as he crawled to the foot of the bed and sunk down between her thighs. His tongue reached out to tease her clit as a finger was slowly pressed into her. Enjoying her scent and flavor, Pravus began eagerly stroking her sensitive flash with his outstretched tongue.

“You taste sweeter knowing no other man has had the pleasure. Tharalon, you are a treat made especially for me to enjoy.” Without further words he increased his assault on her pussy, licking, and fingering her faster as the moments passed.

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

Morgiana smiled wickedly; the look may have told Olam that she was full of lust, and she was, but the real truth was the way he had discarded his clothing.

Her gaze glanced at the cloak, taken care of as if it were precious, but the other clothes were in disarray, gone was the order, but yet…not enough. Inwardly she had a goal and had not yet reached it. In time, she told herself as she advanced toward her magician and lover.

“Olam,” she said, as she climbed onto the bed and moved to straddle his hips.

Her palms rested on his chest and her breasts swayed as she purposely toyed with his dick, using only her moist sex as a teasing blanket. “You should eat,” she snickered, thinking of all the things she could feed him, as well as all he could give her, “but though our meal will be cold, I must feel you inside me again.”

One of her hands moved to take his cock and she wrapped her fingers around the hard sword, stroked it and watched as he enjoyed the pull of his skin sliding up and down on the blood-engorged member.

Soon she wanted more and took the head of his cock and teased her clit with the spongy surface. “How long can you wait?” she asked him and pushed his head to the back of her slit. “How long would it take for you to loose control?”

She poised her sex over his cock and held herself still. She moved down, shifting her hand, so it slid away from the tip of his dick. “Will you ever become an animal? Will your Mistress ever consume your soul?”

Morgiana licked her lips and lifted herself up. “Hold my breasts Olam as I make you forget yourself.”

Slowly she lowered her body down the full length of him, her hand finally moving out of the way. She reached back and grazed his balls with her fingernails, lifted herself up, held and then teasingly clenched her pussy muscles.

 

[Nibbles_n_Tits]

Tharalon

With a soft moan, she lifted her tits to the pleasure of his mouth. His hand flowed over her skin like warm water, his touch rousing and vitalizing her flesh. His hand moved lower, down her flat belly, over the gentle curve of her hip and up her soft inner thigh. Under his touch, her thigh quivered as his fingers slowly climbed between her parted legs. Pleasure, anticipation, and fear combined in her arousal. A jolt of shock fired through her as his fingers first grazed across the moist lips of her pussy, she tired to force her body to relax into the pleasure of his massaging hand, but instinctively her legs closed around him.

His foot deftly caught hers and pulled with casual force until her legs parted again, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable, but his calm refusal to be denied, even shortly, sent a shiver through her. A barely discernible sound drew from her mouth as his thumb swept through her damp lips and danced circles around her clit. Soon, of their own will her legs splayed wider for him.

“I want to be the first to taste you.” He said. Before the meaning of his words could penetrate her head, he was dipping between her thighs. There was surprise and pleasure in her soft cry as his tongue rolled out to tease her clit and he eased a single finger into her warm wet tunnel. Reflexively, her muscles tightened at the unfamiliar invasion, her body tensed but her heels pressed into the bed, bending her knees and shifting her hips into his finger and against his eagerly stroking tongue.

“You taste sweeter knowing no other man has had the pleasure. Tharalon, you are a treat made especially for me to enjoy.”

“Lord Pravus….” In a hesitant voice, she tried to reply but did not know what to say, and soon he drove all thoughts of an attempt from her head.

The intensity of his ministrations steadily increased, heightening her arousal. His finger pushed into her and withdrew with greater speed, as his tongue’s dancing against her clit became almost a thrashing but her hips continued to press to him and the series of increasing moans gave voice to her growing pleasure.

“My Lord… it… I…” Her voice was breathless and tinged with concern. Tharalon felt as if she was becoming feverish, her skin was hot and flushed; her breath came in soft pants and released in moans. Her head tossed from side to side, throwing her hair about her face in wild curls. Her short nails pieced the fabric over the bed, as she fought to keep her hands still. She wanted to touch him, hold on to his shoulders, wrap her fingers in his hair, but the intensity of her growing passion left her afraid she would hurt him.

She cried out, and her eyes opened wide in surprise as the muscles of her tight wet tunnel, clutched at his finger, tightening around it, trying to hold it inside her. Her back arched and her thrusting hips became jerky in their motions as waves of deep and powerful pleasure she rolled over her. The intensity was frightening, but she did nothing to resist, the young witch was caught in the spell of her first orgasm.

 

[One Eyed Jack]

Capturing all he could and holding her bucking hips to his face, Pravus continued to dine on the young witch who burst into frenzied motion doing the onslaught of her orgasm. After his snaking tongue had teased her through the passionate event, he slowed his actions until she finally came to rest.

Labored breath made her breasts rise and fall in a most enticing manner, and he crawled over her body to idly suck and nibble at them once more. “That was wonderful my dear, though it seems I need not tell you.” His chuckle was genuinely friendly, but his eyes still held the intensity of a predator stalking his prey. Most women do not enjoy their first experiences, due to the pain. I’m pleased you could be introduced to something you did enjoy before I took you.”

He allowed her a few more moments to catch her breath, all while teasing her body into continued arousal. She moved so naturally for him, like a puppet and he held the strings. When her eyes told her she was ready, she wanted more, he was eager to comply.

Kneeling between her long, silky legs, each of his hands grabbed her legs, just above the knee, wrapped them around his sides. The head of his cock came to rest against her pussy lips then pressed in further. Feeling her constrict around him, he placed his hands on her hips, and after a moment of letting her grow accustomed to his girth, stabbed his cock into her, burying himself in the all to recently virgin pussy. He did not move further, as he watched her wince from the sudden pain. Always better to make pain quick, he had thought – unless you were trying to torture someone.

He waited, watching her face for a sign that she was ready to continue, and reminded himself to be gentle with her, for now at least.

 

[Nibbles_n_Tits]

Tharalon

Through her half-closed eyes all she could see was the rapid rise and fall of her chest; she did not think her breathing would ever return to its normal steady pace and she doubted her body would ever be the same. As the intensity of pleasure passed, he did not leave her to plummet after the orgasm; instead, his skillful attention guided her body to rest and to wait.

“That was wonderful my dear, though it seems I need not tell you.” He chuckled. “Most women do not enjoy their first experiences, due to the pain. I’m pleased you could be introduced to something you did enjoy before I took you.”

Tharalon bristled; she did not want to be grouped with “most women”. She felt she was not like “most women”; she had skills that no other woman possessed and she knew more than most women, too. Certainly, she knew more then most virgins, but his mouth settled on her breast and she quickly forgot her ire beneath the pleasure of his tongue.

“My Lord,” the first words came from her lips sounding much like a moan, “enjoy is too light a word for it.” Although, she was unsure what she was supposed to do, she found it impossible to remain still. She moved beneath him, pressing harder against him at each point where their bodies touched. Her body had such a strong need for him there was no room for her mind to be nervous or afraid, there was only the desire for more, more of his touch, more of him.

She was his for the taking and his strong hands grabbed her legs, his fingers firm in her flesh as he pulled them around him. She was smiling as she whimpered, and she wrapped her legs around him. Eager and anxious, she felt his cock against her but she didn’t move until he pressed into her. She tensed with the quick tearing of a thin veil of flesh and a flash of pain that brought a cloud to her face. Instinctively, her muscles contracted, tightening around the head of his cock. She drew her breaths deeply as his hands held her hips, in a moment, she forced her body to relax and loosen its hold on him. The sudden rush of his cock into her pushed a small cry from her lips, as the muscles of her tight tunnel were all stretched at once.

It isn’t long before desire overwhelmed fear, and pleasure overwhelmed pain but in the end, curiosity exceeded it all. She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and pressed her teeth into it as she tentatively lifted her hips and moved around his cock. A soft moan blew her lip from between her teeth. She felt hot and wet, filled but still wanting more.

“My lord…”

 

[Tseranc]

His mind spun in and dashed down dangerous paths as he took in her words and actions. Was she wanting him to be a real lover? It was difficult to focus his thoughts as more questions came, and teased him methodically. To loose control with her meant certain death, many had perished for far less.

But the promise of forgetting himself, and the notion of sharing true passion with her became the only thought that he could hold onto as her body worked to distract him from all else.

He held and kneaded her breasts as instructed, and he knew how to please her. Rolling thumbs over her nipples and he grew bold enough to pinch and tug on them slightly without her command to do so. She didn’t sop, didn’t immediately kick him from her sight, and this made him bolder.

“I am whatever my Mistress desires.” His statement filled with fear from how honestly it was delivered. But he threw his head back as her talented pussy gripped him tightly. She made it very difficult to remember his circumstances, his body telling him to react and not think; to enjoy and please a woman, not just his liege.

Finally, he was compelled to act. Sitting up, his hands wrapped around her back and took a nipple into his mouth to lick and bite. He looked up at her, with her tit in his mouth. Lust and hope filling his eyes. Hope that he’d survive the encounter. Hope that she was letting him in. Hope that they both might find a tiny slice of true happiness.

Embracing as true lovers, he’d never felt so vulnerable since her father had captured and forced him to craft his bracers. He knew now was no less dangerous then that had been, if far more enjoyable a peril.