Lords of Itaea

[Pro_Create]

Belcanto, Voyuer in the Dark

Although Belcanto was trapped in darkness, he saw the moonlit yard outside his smokehouse prison. He saw his guard, smoking a handmade pipe, staring out over the inn, over the forest, towards his homeland. The guard, one of four of the band of thieves that followed Little Lackland, longed for the day he'd step foot again on his native soil.

Belcanto also saw the guard wrapped in foreign soil, never again to be touched by moonlight, his soul decades later still chilled by the sword that had taken his life. He could change that, if he so desired, but Belcanto felt no such need.

The woman that now called herself Veni stepped in the moonight from the kitchen. She carried, Belcanto knew, a bland stew for him, but he did not care. The true meal that she carried for him was her substantiative ardor. Until his waking self learned tantric rituals, his dreaming self fed rarely and meagerly, but that was all right.
Serendipity served him better than any routine his waking mind might come up with.

As she stepped towards the smokehouse, the moonlight stripped away her years. Both Belcanto and the Guard watched her walk confidenty towards them. Veni watched the guard watching her and met his eyes with silent laughter. Her loins burned like a midnight sun to Belcanto, and he moved in his restraints so that he might better bathe in her invisible heat. The guard, to his credit, did not so much as squirm, but ony because he did not and could not believe that that look was for him.

"Freddy says I'm not to let you near him," he said, defensively and in lieu of a gentler greeting. He tried to remind himself that she was old and married, but his mind seemed to correct him. She wasn't old, just... older. And, as far as marraige went... there hadn't been enough time for a legal ceremony, right.

Veni let the Guard feed Belcanto and when the bowl changed hands, well oiled and softened fingers brushed suggestively against his rough, dirty fingers. His cod piece seemed suddenly too tight, but he scoffed at himself and stepped inside the smokehouse.

Veni followed him in, lighting a lantern that he hadn't know had been there. Belcanto saw himself through the eyes of both. His two years on the road had cost him much in muscle tone and in the light of the single lantern, his worm-white skin glowed like monlight. The guard wasn't much older than Belcanto, but he looked like a man. He saw Belcanto as a pathetic waste of the food Veni had brought him.

Veni feared him, and was grateful for the sack over his head. Not that she wasn't grateful for the awakening that his warming oil and seeking fingers had brought her, but she believed in his power. It excited her to be near him, and that also frightened her, for she was at heart a practical woman and as the inn-keeper's wife on a trade route, she'd learned long ago not to think of the chattel as people.

Just as some husbands learned not to think of their wives as people, too.
After several mouthfuls, Belcanto stopped eating. He was too busy feeding off the sexual energy roiling off the woman. The guard got annoyed with him, but Belcanto knew that he would. He cared nothing for the backhanded slap as if he had been expecting it for years.

Veni let the smoke house door close behind her. Instantly, the guard was alert, the bowl dropped to the floor. Were he the hero of the piece, Belcanto could have grabbed the guard between his naked, lean legs and shown the man how much strenght there was in them, enough to carry him al the way across Itaea to here. But it was Belcanto's destiny to be a victim and a tool, a pawn in game started by a god long before they all turned from this world.

In the light of the lantern, Veni's top had come undone and her pale orbs had not completely surrendered to gravity. The guard met her eyes, but it was her unblinking teats that captured him a moment later. Belcanto shivered with delight as a spark within the guard caught and passion began to smolder within his guard. Not a flame yet, but soon, soon... and then Belcanto could show them such terrific things... terrific in both senses of the word.

 

[One Eyed Jack]

He pondered at what she would have said, when she was interrupted at the bell, but was pleased enough by the words that followed, even if they were almost a shock. Perhaps she was so young, and sheltered that a man had never paid her a proper compliment before, and she would melt for any who had pretty words. Then again maybe she loved power, and was finally giving into it, and him. He was powerful, commanding, and forceful. Perhaps she needed to be dominated.

He pondered these things, grinning, while they walked back down to his spacious cabin. On any warship, space was precious resource. But this was his flagship, one of the largest vessels to grace the sea, and his cabin stretched across the aft of the ship, the rear deck above providing his ceiling. Still, as much space as he was entitled to, it had to serve as his conference room, dining table, and bedchambers. He led her into the lavish apartment, and took his seat at the table. He picked up and rand a silver bell, and food was brought immediately in and placed.

Pravus gestured for her to take a seat nearest him and beamed his wolfish grin at her. Apparently she liked it. Her shy, yet wildly eager expressions made his heart race, and his thoughts returned to imagining her body exposed to him in all its youthful glory. It took some effort to shake the mental image and begin his morning feast.

“I enjoy your new found enthusiasm, Tharalon; the excitement makes you blush in a most delightful manner.” He poured them both some sweet wine, and returned to eating. “Your expressed loyalty is also very comforting, and shall be continually rewarded. I know you are a dangerous woman, and shall only become more so as your tap into these gifts of yours. But then I always was drawn to danger – perhaps the same can be said of you?”

If he had his way he’d break the witch in before they landed, but he could not afford to break whatever comforts she had taken in him – not with the promise of that talisman. That would be a powerful tool, and give him an edge he knew no other warlord could acquire.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

Who is that knocking at my door?

Lisheeda noticed an eerie silence just outside her door and she stopped her crying. The other Lisheeda was gone and she said a quiet thanks to the gods and goddesses long gone from their world. She waited, looking at the door as if it would suddenly open and the demonic Lord would suddenly appear to take her again. Nothing happened. No one entered. No one spoke. But still someone was there, she could sense it. A small sliver of light shifted and she held her breath for a moment. He was coming, she told herself and curled up tighter, trying to be one with the wall. Again nothing.

Slowly she uncurled herself and crawled through the dung and grime, once more ignoring the squish of it between her fingers, toes and how it covered her legs. When she reached the door, she peered under it and noticed the clean cloth of a cloak or robe, she wasn’t sure, her view limited and small. Was it the witch? She thought to herself and slowly rose to her knees, trying to see what or who was on the other side, using the tiny cracks to give her a better view, though it too was small.

It was the witch. Despair filled her as she slipped back to the floor and buried her head in her hands. She’d hoped that perhaps it was a servant, told to bring her to the baths, or perhaps feed her. Her fingers pushed back the strands of her long hair and she tucked them behind her ears. No more was her scalp tender and her time in the cell had given her sex time to heal somewhat, as well as the tenderness of her abused ass. Her face still hurt and she knew she looked as if she’d been disfigured. She almost wished she had, for then she’d be less used by the Lord.

“You’ve got only yourself to blame,” the woman in the corner whispered.

“Go away!” she screamed and rolled onto her side, clutching her stomach and trying to swallow what little saliva her body was producing.

“You need me! I shall not go away. It was time I came out to play, perhaps with me here now you’ll survive longer than a day.”

“I didn’t need you in the woods, I don’t need you...”

“Didn’t need me? Who did you talk to? Me. . .you need me Lisheeda. You just didn’t know it. Call me Bellatonia... let me be that woman he takes, while you hide in your little shell.”

 

[Nibbles_n_Tits]

Tharalon

Tharalon was comfortable in the silence as she walked with him to his cabin. She felt none the usual girlish need to fill the quiet with mindless babble but at ease enough with him to generally speak when she had something to say. Feeling that he always listened to her, she did not want to waste the time or attention of such an important man on things that were of no significance to either of them. Arriving at his cabin her eyes-widened as she marveled at the splendor of Pravus' stateroom. She had thought that her own was luxurious, but his was simply regal. Befitting, she thought, the lord of the land.

Even his servants understood and they appeared with his food almost at the moment he rang the little silver bell. Tharalon took the seat he indicated, nearest to him, as he smiled at her. It was a wolfish grin, both knowing and telling. Tharalon responded to it with an open smile of her own before she blushed and lowered her eyes to the table.

“I enjoy your new found enthusiasm, Tharalon; the excitement makes you blush in a most delightful manner.” Lord Pravus spoke as he poured their wine, and Tharalon quickly reached for her glass to cover her embarrassment and sipped politely as he continued.

“Your expressed loyalty is also very comforting, and shall be continually rewarded. I know you are a dangerous woman, and shall only become more so as your tap into these gifts of yours. But then I always was drawn to danger – perhaps the same can be said of you?”

She considers his words as she sets the wine back on the table. By time she speaks, she has weighed his words more than her own, “It is strange to think of myself as dangerous when I was at only at last becoming accustomed to thinking of myself as a danger to others. I see now, the without out control, I am a danger, because I will injure without intention or purpose. With control, I am dangerous because you have given me a purpose, and honoring that is my intention.” Her blushing, downcast look is gone as her cheeks flush now with eagerness and her eyes shine as they meet his. “You have great things planned, my lord, and as my abilities grow so will the support I give you and your ambitions. Ambitions can be dangerous, my lord, but they are needed. Without them nothing ever changes, no one ever grows, and some people won't ever feel alive. Ambitions are a great catalyst, but to acheive greatness the danger must be faced.”

She pauses for a moment before continuing, “My lord, I was taught that I must use my gifts to help people, to save them when I could, and to comfort them when I could not. I admit that I was initially concerned about serving you when I should be out working among the neediest of your people. I was wrong, of course. There is no greater honor than serving you, and as you give me the opportunity to reach my full potential, no one has a greater right to benefit from my gifts than you do. I am very fortunate that the tracker found me and brought me to you. Serving you is not without danger but I will serve you loyally, and perhaps then both of us will acheive our ambitions.”

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

"Olam," she whimpered and felt her sex tingling as his tongue dived in and out of her slick opening.

Her hand wrapped around his cock and she opened her mouth wide, covered the head and then slid down to take the fullness of his member deeper. Her lips wrapped around the shaft and settled at the base, before rising up to suck and nip at the head.

He said her name and she felt a moment of bliss. No one called her Morgaina. She closed her eyes and fought back the emotion that threatened to spill over her. Yet, she did not tell him to drop her name, she simply moaned against his rod, swallowing the drops of precum that seeped out.

Morgaina dropped his cock from her mouth and lowered her pussy even further onto his face. "Slower my lo. . ." she swallowed the sentiment and then cupped his balls, lifting them and sucking them into her mouth.

Her tongue moved over them, pushing each one to one side of her warmth and then letting her teeth graze the sensitive balls.

She sucked the saliva from his testicles, licked the skin under the sack and then lapped at the swollen veins of his member.

"Ohhh Olam, please do not stop," she moaned as she felt his tongue slide across her clit. "Your teeth. . . ohhh use your teeth," she whimpered and gasped, before driving his dick back down her throat.

 

[Tseranc]

Knowing his Mistress’s desires, for sometimes she enjoyed a rougher treatment, so long as he remembered his place. He complied, gleefully, and nibbled at her lips, tugging on them, then releasing to dive back in and sooth any sting he’d caused with his tongue.

He was in a frenzy, so eager to please her, to be the one so trusted to share this moment. He moaned, “My Mistress is beautiful.” Sucking wet flesh into his mouth, then rubbing his nose in it. “My Mistress tastes so sweet,” both compliments and thanks, as he dove in again.

If this woman’s thighs and pussy was the last thing he saw, he figured it was as beautiful and natural a sight as he could ever hope for. He’d decided long ago he’d die for her, even sacrifice himself to protect her. Heavens knew she’d suffered far too much at the hands of men; she needed at least one that would watch over her, even if she could not bring herself to trust him.

But he’d bring that up later, very possibly sacrificing his life just to tell her. For now, he enjoyed his position, dining on her precious flesh. If she killed him later, then he’d at least have had the perfect final meal. The thought brought a smile to his buried face.

Continuing his fest, he could feel her actions bring him closer and closer to the edge, and he fought for concentration. He had to hold off, it was imperative on a personal level to him. He’d not be another man who enjoyed her before she had received her joy from him.

 

[One Eyed Jack]

Listening to her as he sipped his wine, the large goblet hid his smirk. Speaking so openly of ambitions could be as dangerous as having them. Still, he found her candor refreshing.
He set the wine down, and took a moment to add more to his cup. “Yes, your ambitions please me, and I shall use them, as I use your skills to ensure our victory. We will achieve great things together.”

Leaning back in a posture far more relaxed and casual, he looked over at her intently. “But we have a few hours before all that begins, and I find myself intrigued by you. A pretty young girl, who ran from her village, only to be plucked from the city and delivered to me. I know of your desires concerning your talents, but tell me more about you, as a young woman. What desires does Tharalon harbor outside of healing, herbs and flowers? What hopes do you have for your future?”

He was genuinely curious, but bated the path he wished her to follow, one that might lead eventually to his bed. “How many young men will miss you at that tavern, any that were dear to you? Do you leave a lover behind as you sail off to war?”

He rang the bell again for the servant to come take his plates, and set his feet on the table, leaning back further to listen attentively, his hands clasping behind his head as his gaze fixed on her. The servants departed in their expert haste, leaving them once again alone.

 

[Katamari Roller]

Brita stepped back, scared by the woman's shriek. It was not that she was afraid of her, the door was sturdy enough. It was Slythe she feared. If he found out she was interested in the slave, well, his reactions were unpredictable. And even if Brita wouldn't be the one harmed, she was not one who did not care about others' suffering.

Although there was a little pang of fear that the slave might do something to her again. Brita's eyes drifted down to her bandaged hand. When she noticed the bandages had blood stains, her eyes opened wide. The blood stains were normal, but if Slythe came to see Brita right in front of the cell of the one who attacked her, his reaction was not that hard to tell.

Brita quickly scampered away... and heard the sounds of boots coming close. Brita quickly slipped behind a pillar, and grabbed her fur coat so it fit behind the stone. The unmistakable sound of a body being dragged was muffled when the group entered a cell. Peeking around the pillar, Brita saw Slythe had entered the cell right in front of the slave's. Now she couldn't even stay there. It would be for the best if she left the dungeon, it was simple as that.

Peeking into the cell, Brita saw Slythe dealing with Frost. At least she could leave without Slythe noticing. He probably wouldn't mind that, either, so Brita hurried along the corridors, her heart thumping away like... like a war drum. As she climbed upstairs, Brita remembered that the shadow following her might report her movements to Slythe. Brita pulled her coat around herself tighter, and frowned in a mix of nervousness and sadness. If that girl got tortured again because of her...

Well, then it couldn't be helped... she would be tortured anyway...

Brita inmediately shook her head, refusing to liberate herself of that guilt. The gods would not be pleased if she didn't make herself responsible for her actions. But.. but she was terrified of what Slythe might do to her if she tried to interfer with his wishes...

 

[Nibbles_n_Tits]

Tharalon

“Yes, your ambitions please me, and I shall use them, as I use your skills to ensure our victory. We will achieve great things together.”

Pleased with his words, they bring a happy smile to Tharalon’s lips. She knows that he is being generous with his compliments, that he will achieve great things and it will simply be her honor to be useful to him. However, she knew in a world with so little magic remaining her abilities were impressive and had the potential to serve his needs in a way no one else could. It was a thrilling knowledge for a young woman from a simple fishing village. Even the knowledge that he felt her worthy of flattery touched her.

She watched him lean back in his chair, even his casual movements had grace, she noted, even relaxed he had the subtle look of a predator ready to pounce. “But we have a few hours before all that begins, and I find myself intrigued by you. A pretty young girl, who ran from her village, only to be plucked from the city and delivered to me.”

Tharalon blushed. She knew in her village they saw her as a pretty girl, but pretty to the boys of a fishing village was very different from being pretty in the capitol, in the eyes of the most powerful man in the country… the world. She looked down to her lap as her hand grazed the soft wool of her black gown, she knew it suited her bold coloring, and the style accented her figure… She gave herself a mental shake, she called her pretty but that did not mean she should make too much of his words.

“I know of your desires concerning your talents, but tell me more about you, as a young woman. What desires does Tharalon harbor outside of healing, herbs and flowers? What hopes do you have for your future?”

“I always thought I would grow old and die in my village, using my gift to help the people I lived with. It was not a thrilling prospect, but I thought of it as my duty. When the situation changed and forced to leave the village to hide in the city, I was terrified, my entire life was changing.” She licked her lip and delivered her next words as if unburdening a great secret. “But I was excited, too, although I could barely admit it. Whatever else happened, at least I was escaping the lifelong monotony, the never-ending dreariness of that village. What desires do I harbor? What hopes have I for my future?” She shakes her head, “I have none yet. No more than the ones I have already shared with you. I think I am too enthralled by the unfolding of my present to question my future.”

“How many young men will miss you at that tavern, any that were dear to you? Do you leave a lover behind as you sail off to war?”

Tharalon laughs, “My lord, I never worked as hard as I did in that tavern. I did not have time to notice faces let alone develop affections. Even back in the village, where I might have had the time, my family kept me isolated in many ways, so I could devote my time to the practice of gift. My gift cost me the normal opportunities a young woman has to… umm... socialize… but I never doubted it was worth the price.”

 

[Pro_Create]

Belcanto Smokes

Belcanto, in his trance, knew all there was to know about his guard. His name was Dineros and he had had three sexual encounters in his life.

All had been purchased with varying types of coin.

So it was, when faced with a pair of huge pale tits staring eagerly at him, Dineros was absolutely certain that the currency of her fee was the only thing in question. And, he strongly suspected that the coin would be betrayel of his duties. That she'd fuck him and then fuck the witchboy in turn.

Still, Dineros was sorely tempted, for even though this woman was older than his mother, he suspected that there was a lot more for him to learn. However, he was equally certain that Little Lackland would also provide an equal but unpleasantly educational fucking over when he eventually found out that his new pet had been played with.

My goodness, he thought, she must be about 40!

Then, despite his efforts to see her only as a threat, he thought, Those puppies are holding up good, He just had to touch them.

He'd never had a freewoman's tits in his hands before. He kept waiting for her to cry out in alarm, but she did not. She responded with nothing but a knowing smile. Her smile said, "Yes, aren't they simply amazing?"

Her teeth weren't bad for an older woman's. And her eyes, they were young and playful, in the lantern light. No crows feet... here was a woman who had never had much reason to smile before and crinkle her face, but she was smiling now, a wolfish grin.

Then her hands were brushing against his codpiece and trousers and he realized, cautiously, that the coin to be paid would be in trade. His flesh for her flesh. It was almost enough to make him drop his sword, but his passion flared to life. His trousers strings came out so fast, they burned his flesh, but he did not mind.

The two flames met and Belcanto drank in their warmth.

Belcanto could not fan those flames or add fuel to their conflagation. He could, however, cast his own light and his own shadow into their hungry hearts and minds as their bodies grappled before him. Hooded and bound in darkness, Belcanto stood at his dreamforge and pulled images from their blazing fire. He swung a hammer left the gods and beat on the glowing figments. He knew not what he was smithing, but that was alright.

The hammer knew.

And another link in the chain was forged...

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

"Olam," she gasped as his tongue began to draw her out of her rough exterior. She slowed her hips and kept herself still against him as she basked in the touch of his tongue rubbing its way across her pussy.

Her fingers held his cock as if were a precious jewel and her lips pressed a kiss to the head. She’d felt his stomach tighten and knew he was close, battling an inner war himself to not come. She smiled against his cock. Kissed the side of it and then closed her eyes as she came on him

Juices flowed free.

"YES!" she screamed.

She slowly rolled her hips on his face so he could lap up her juices and then she sighed in pleasure.

Morgaina didn’t have to suck his cock and let him come, but she wanted to. She wanted to hear him call out to her. "Olam, you have my permission to call me Morgiana when we are like this."

Her words were soft, and she knew that her voice was not the one her magician was use to hearing.

"Come in my mouth, Olam. . .please," she whispered and then took his dick between her lips once more, sliding her mouth down and sucking with desire that was unlike the lust of old, what fueled her now was the hunger to please the man beneath her.

 

[Tseranc]

Olam relished his reward, her honey flowing around his face and down his throat. Her pussy pressed down on him as she ground herself on his lips. He wanted to cry out in victory, he had done his duty, pleasing her before he lost control himself.

“Oh thank you Mistress.” He said as she began to recover from her orgasm. His arms ached now, and he let his head fall down against the desk to relax. Then she shocked him. She was more…intimate, then he’d ever seen her. Ever. He didn’t even know how to respond at first. Finally, “Yes Mistress Morgiana, thank you.” His voice was grateful, but he tried to hide the bit of fear he felt. Closer to her meant more danger, and he felt very close now…

And then she told him – asked him! – to come in her mouth. She asked! Her lips descending his shaft felt like the forbidden pleasure they were. His life, he knew hung on by loose threads now, this close to the hear to the heart of the beast, all it would take was the slightest hurt to her ego and he’d decorate another wall of her dungeon.

But the fear gave way to the moment of actual passion as she treated him to something he was certain none other had felt from her since she rose to power. The softest lips in all the lands were wrapped around his shaft as an eager tongue snaked around it.

“OH Morgiana, my beautiful Mistress!” he shouted out, as his seed welled up and burst forth into her hot waiting cavern. His hips bucked slightly despite the position, and he jerked and pulled at the chains. “Yes…yes…yes…, thank you My Mistress. ….Morgiana..” Her name whispered softly as he shuddered one last time, and went limp trying to recover his breath.

 

[One Eyed Jack]

Pravus actually felt sorry for the girl; to be left uneducated in the ways of men and women and thrust into his reach without such experiences. No girl should be left to the predators so soon in their ‘social life’.

It was really too bad that pity, and reluctance did not travel together in the Lord’s scruples. “My, such a perfect, blossoming flower, left untouched; too busy to seek the answers to the urging of her body and mind. I never imagined your tale would be such a sad one Tharalon, and yet you don’t even seem to know how much you missed.” He sat back up, and reached out; the back of his hand brushing down her cheek, and softly holding her chin to face him.

“You are young, but by your age you should be onto a second lover, exploring that amazing body of yours, learning what pleases and thrills you, as well as how to please a man. Useful skills, let no one tell you otherwise; vital to a clear mind and many even say it has its importance in matters of the heart.” He laughed lightly, never removing his gaze from her grey eyes.

He removed his hand, wanting to take in every natural reaction she had, “Sadly, your situation is not much improved. With a war about to erupt, and exploring your talents, I don’t see too many opportunities for you to gain your ‘social’ perspective. I’d not leave such a rare and precious gem to the hand of soldiers, which are likely the only men you’ll be seeing much of.”

He tried to soften his features, he was not used to trying to seduce women – he took them. But this girl could offer him a good deal more then sex, and she had to remain in a benevolent mood toward him. He tried to look less like a rabid stalker of his prey, and more like just a concerned man. “You know Tharalon, you may have duties to me, but as Lord, I have a duty to see to the happiness of my subjects. Does my beautiful witch have needs she wishes to explore?”

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

She was surprised by the intensity of the pleasure that washed through her when Olam called her name, as his come filled her throat and slid down to warm her tight belly. She basked in it for several minutes, licking his rod and nuzzling his balls, while she felt his breath against her pussy.

Morgiana moved her legs and then turned her body so her moist cunt pressed against his limp tool. She licked his lips, thrusting her tongue against his and sharing his taste as she took hers.

"Olam," she whispered, licking her way across to his ear, which she tugged gently. "You have pleased me greatly."

She reached up and released the restraints on his arms and twined her fingers in his. "You have seen a weakness in me... it can not go beyond this room." She bit down gently on his neck, before she sat up and looked down on him.

"We have only a few hours before Pravus makes land. . .You must rest, because I know you are often tired after you come so hard," she grinned and slipped off him.

Her clothing rested in a pile on the floor and she noted that Olam had again folded his clothing. She smirked as she imagined one day making him so hungry for her that he pulled himself from his bloody clothes.

"Rest in my quarters my lover, and when it is time I will seek you out."

She unlatched his ankles and ran her hands up and down his legs. "Thank you," she whispered and kissed each one before turning to get dressed.

 

[Tseranc]

Olam savored her intimacy, and the odd blend of their lustful flavors. Even her biting down, marking him, he relished. As he was released he sat up quickly, and slid off the table to go after her.

“Mistress Morgiana?” He waited for her to turn around before he knelt at her feet. Looking up, nothing but thanks and sincerity in his eyes, “Mistress, I will reveal nothing, and I thank you for the opportunity to please you. But I wish you to know that you never need remind me. I am yours. To command, to use, or even to confide in. I know your position, I know what forces pull at you, what demon haunt you. I seek only to aid you Mistress. I know my fate is tied forever to you. I continue to breath because you will it, but I live for you. Please never fear that I would ever betray you. I’ll sooner die of my own hand then live a moment with such a stain on my soul.”

His head bowed as he grasped her hand in both of his and placed her palm on his head. Such a position clearly was meant, in the old ways at least, to accept or dismiss an oath of fealty. Granted she already owned his live, but he wanted her to know he served because of something deeper.

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

Her fingers smoothed his hair down as she replayed all his words in her head. She felt her chest tighten and she wondered if he understood how much his loyalty meant to her. Stepping back, she cupped his chin and lifted his face, running a finger over his lips.

"I have many demons Olam. If you knew them all then you would despise me. I am no better than my father or my brother," she whispered. "I will take your devotion and keep it close to me," she bent down and kissed his lips. "I pray I do not ruin you, for I would be alone if I lost you. Go now and rest. I must meet with the men."

She turned, her shoulders heavy because of her magician’s confession. She knew that if Olam was aware of how she gained the throne than he would still serve her, but he would see her as the evil she was.

There was something in Olam, something she knew that the gods would see if they were there and they would take him up and praise him. Olam was her opposite. He was a gentle soul and she was the ugliness of humanity.

When she reached the courtyard several of the men were conversing among themselves, she nodded her head in greeting and set her face in a hostile temperament. They fell in behind her and followed her out to the training grounds where all the soldiers were waiting.

"Mistress, we are leaving one thousand men here to guard the keep. Setting a half dozen outside your Mother’s rooms."

A collective gasp rang out at the mention of the supposed dead queen. Morgiana squared her shoulders and lifted her arm. "Yes, my mother lives. She is not of sound mind. I have kept her hidden for her own protection against those that would try to harm her to get to me. Now a threat moves into our lands and she must return to the safety of her home. Be warned though that she responds to nothing and no one, not even myself, so I am still your leader. You will be wise to remember this."

She turned to her Captain. "We will ride out in two hours time. Olam will be with us, I want several guards flanking him. His power is too great for him to fall victim to the enemies blade. If he dies, you had best hope you do to."

She walked away, knowing the real reason she had protected her magician, and it had nothing to do with his magic.

 

[Tseranc]

Olam let a sigh of relief escape his lips, his chest deflating. She accepted him, and while he did know all too well what demons she spoke of, he would remain silent on the issue for now. Best not to worry her, for her piece of mind was also his to be loyal to.

“Yes Mistress, thank you.” He rose from her feet and made his way to her bed. Crawling up on to the large, soft mattress, he felt odd. Never before had eh been allowed here without her. It didn’t feel right, but that didn’t bugg him long. Soon he was in a deep slumber; sleeping more soundly then he could remember since his capture by her father.

A he drifted off he though on how Morgiana still held onto her humanity, despite how she covered it. Perhaps she was the real prisoner, inheriting the land from her dead father – a father she no doubt killed. He didn’t blame her, if he could have, he would have done the deed long before she had the chance; and for much the same reasons. Olam hated Micah, even dead, more then anything.

In his sleep, he dreamed. In his dreams he saw a she wolf hunting in the snow. A storm came, impairing almost all vision, but the wolf pressed on, unafraid of her own domain. But another came, that did not fit the winter scene, a falcon soared, as if seeming to stalk the wolf from above.

Eventually the falcon dove at the wolf, but the storm his the actions from his view, but the flacon flew off to a safe distance, both appearing wounded. All Olam could see after was the two wounded animals stare at each other until the bird finally took off again in another direction, leaving behind a bloody human handprint in the snow.

He bolted upright in his bed, and dressed quickly. Knowing they moved out tonight, into the storm. His few belongings were packed, mainly his more rugged, natural hide vests, and grabbed his precious cloak from its peg; the one he had made so many years past in the forests, covered in feathers and hides of beasts that reminded him how to live. The last item he needed was his staff, a twisting bit of a tree that seemed barely strait enough to serve its function.

As he scurried through the halls to find Morgiana, he wondered if the dream was a source of his own anxiety, or something more prophetic.

 

[Nibbles_n_Tits]

Tharalon

“My, such a perfect, blossoming flower, left untouched; too busy to seek the answers to the urging of her body and mind. I never imagined your tale would be such a sad one Tharalon, and yet you don’t even seem to know how much you missed.”

She saw his hand reach out towards her. It was not the touch of his hand that surprised her; it was the feel of his touch. The softness of it as his hand grazed down her cheek. It was the lightness of his fingers as the held her him and turned her to face him. Of her own choice, she willingly lifts her downcast eyes to meet his.

“The old adage says you cannot miss what you have never known.” Her gaze drops, her lashes lowering to brush her pinkened cheeks, “I am not certain that is true.”

She knows he could consider her words too bold, so she raised her eyes again, to judge his reaction. This time she does not meet his gaze, he catches her with it. His face and his eyes are unreadable, but that does not dismay her, she knows she has rarely been able to judge his expression and is comforted that the nature of his touch is not changed by the daring of her words.

“You are young, but by your age you should be onto a second lover, exploring that amazing body of yours, learning what pleases and thrills you, as well as how to please a man. Useful skills, let no one tell you otherwise; vital to a clear mind and many even say it has its importance in matters of the heart.”

She is familiar with the nature and physiology of a lover’s relationship; she could not utilize her gift effectively if she did not understand the biology of sexuality and reproduction. Her pride almost makes her mention this to him but something softer tells her he is saying more than his words are telling her and she holds her tongue.

He took his hand away from her chin leaving the warm skin behind feeling cold. Unconsciously, she started to lean towards his hand as he pulled it away. She quickly caught herself and leaned back in her chair, hoping he had not noticed.

“Sadly, your situation is not much improved. With a war about to erupt, and exploring your talents, I don’t see too many opportunities for you to gain your ‘social’ perspective. I’d not leave such a rare and precious gem to the hand of soldiers, which are likely the only men you’ll be seeing much of.”

“Again, my lord, my duty will take precedence over the satisfying of my….” Her words trail off and she falls silent.

She didn’t know what she was going to say only, that it goes too far and she could not say it.

Satisfy my what? Needs? Desires? Curiosity? In one breath, he plants in me seeds of thoughts it seems I long ago stopped thinking then in the next, he confirms I should continue to deny them.

She tried to sound confident and cover her first faltering start. “My lord, I am sure that some fine men serve you. However, I admit that I have no wish to expand my social skills at their hands. Indeed, I doubt any possess the advanced perspective I would wish to acquire.” Her hand fluttered nervously, clearly exposing the uncertainty she is trying to mask.

“You know Tharalon, you may have duties to me, but as Lord, I have a duty to see to the happiness of my subjects. Does my beautiful witch have needs she wishes to explore?”

Her lips parted slightly and her breath drew in as a silent, oh…

He cannot mean… to offer himself as my introduction. No, he must have someone in mind for me. Lord Pravus receives his pleasure from beautiful slaves, women bred for sex, and trained to gratify… Why would he be willing to take an untrained novice? Would he be willing?

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, first leaning back then sitting forward again. The idea intrigued her, but disturbed her, as well. She was unwilling to make a fool of herself by accepting an offer that he had not made. She knew there was also the danger of increasing his sway over her but he already held her life in his hands and nonetheless treated her with generosity.

True to her cautious nature, she folded her hands on the table and took the middle road. Her voice was steady, and her eyes met his but her cheeks turned from blushing pink to burning red.

“Lord Pravus, I am a curious woman, with a desire for exploration. However, such exploration is a journey that requires the proper companion, or it remains better to travel alone.”

 

[One Eyed Jack]

He chuckled; laughing defiantly came easier with her around, even if it often was at her naivety. “Yes my dear, but how long until the right companion presents themselves. Had I waited for the right moment for all things, I’d like be a dead man, forgotten long ago with a shallow grave. You should learn to take what you need Tharalon, else you love off other’s tables scraps.”

He stood suddenly, his chair sliding across the floor. Leaning over the table he brought his face to inches within hers, as if eyeing a prize, deciding if he should take it. And just as suddenly his lips were on hers, pressed hard, and parting to allow more. His hand flew to the back of her head, to pull her deeper into his embrace.

When finally he parted, his eyes held a fire he could not hide if he tired. Her innocence beckoned him, and made him crave more. The wide, shocked eyes, the blushing skin, contrasting its normal snowy white; it all thrilled him. Combine that with the danger of this woman, and he was on edge like he hadn’t felt since he killed the previous ruler with his bare hands, and then took his wife on her throne for all to see. She had elected not to server her post any longer by hanging herself.

But Pravus felt alive as only danger and reward combined could stir the blood. “See, I saw something I wanted, and took it. Do you see something you want Tharalon? Is there something you want? If so, take it.”

His heart beat like a war drum in his chest, waiting on her reaction.

 

[Nibbles_n_Tits]

Tharalon

“Yes my dear, but how long until the right companion presents themselves. Had I waited for the right moment for all things, I’d like be a dead man, forgotten long ago with a shallow grave. You should learn to take what you need Tharalon, else you love off other’s tables scraps.”

Scraps. The very idea forces the proud young witch to lift her chin and straighten she shoulders, her hands remain folded on the table but she sits taller in her chair. Even back in the village, she would rather have nothing than someone else’s castaways. She took fair payment for her services or none when her patients could not afford to pay, but she never accepted more than her due and she never accepted charity. She would never take the scraps…

She startled when he suddenly rose from his chair and her hands moved to brace around the arms of hers. Does he see danger? Should I flee? Instead of moving away, he leaned over the table, closer to her. Suddenly, she felt like a mouse caught in the gaze of a snake. She wondered if the mouse wished it could escape but admitted she had no wish to run. Before she cold fully understand her feeling of curious anticipation his lips were on hers. She felt his firmly pressed and parting into hers, she murmured something even she did not understand. This was not repellent like the threatened touch of the night watchman she injured, but she kept her fingers curled around the arms of her chair to protect her lord. His hand at the back of her head turned a demanding kiss into one that was taking and controlling. Part of her wanted to resist but part of her wanted to submit.

Then it was over.

It left her with a heart that pounded beneath her breasts and her breaths drawn through parted lips moved them in a sharp rise and fall. She felt a warm flush cover her chest and move up to her cheeks as shock and surprise widened her grey eyes. She was shocked that he was brave and daring enough to take a risk for what must seem like a simple thing to him and she was surprised by how much she enjoyed the feelings.

She was not naïve; she was inexperienced but not so inexperienced that she did not recognize the burning in his eyes as he spoke. “See, I saw something I wanted, and took it. Do you see something you want Tharalon? Is there something you want? If so, take it.”

She felt the fire in him briefly, she did not know if she could answer it but she knew she wanted to feel it again. Even while she had wanted to resist him she had not wanted it to end, it was a conflict that she did not understand, and she pushed it aside to examine later.

She leaned into him, raising her hand as she moved closer to him. Waiting and watching to see if he flinched. As she lifted her hand she imagined a bruise on his jaw, fresh with dark blood beneath tender skin, she touched her fingers to it and tried to heal it. She felt her gift pass from her fingers to his skin. An unmistakable feeling of soft magic spreading a warmth charged with flowing energy to his flesh, but like is his kiss it lasted only a few moments. Then she pressed her parted lips to his but where his kiss had been a demand hers was a request. For another kiss.

 

[One Eyed Jack]

He refuse to move as her hand acme up to his face, but the images of that city guard’s hand flashed his mind. Fear; such a strange little creature, even tamed it made itself known, though he hid I well, making no outward sign. Her eyes did not hold any malice, but then he believed her that the guard was an accident. Perhaps if she was too scared, he’d wind up dead.

He felt a soft – something, flow into his jaw. He couldn’t explain it, but it was not painful, and after a moment, it actually felt pleasant. As soon as it ended, she leaned in for a kiss. A tender, warm kiss from an anxious, but still shy girl. When their lips parted, he could tell she was ready for more, almost asking for it with those eyes.

Whispering, as they face each other at such a close distance, “Very good Tharalon, and I’m honored to be wanted. Did it feel good to take what you wished?” Pravus stepped over to her chair and grabbing an arm, pulled her out to stand with him where his lips were once again press into hers, with an even more hungry force then previously. This kiss spoke of his desire for more, more then just kissing. But his hands also conveyed a message of want, as they slipped around her dress and roamed over her back, and then back down to rest on her young, tight ass.

He spun them around, and the forceful playing of lips and tongues pressed her to step backwards, almost unconsciously he hoped, until her steps brought her to run into the large bed.

“I can show you more. I want you, Tharalon. I want to see what happens when an innocent girl takes what her craves, without reservation. The only thing that lies between you and your exploration is a question. Are you ready to push aside all that might hold you back from both enjoying and being enjoyed; ready to give in to your body, and let it decide what is best for the moment?”

His hands had come to rest on her hips, as if gently holding her in place as if she were to run, but his thumbs rubbed up and down , reaching low, lightly pressing areas none but a lover should ever touch.

 

[Nibbles_n_Tits]

Tharalon

She pulled away from his lips, silently trying to gauge his reaction as she listened to his whispered words.

“Very good Tharalon, and I’m honored to be wanted. Did it feel good to take what you wished?”

An affirming grin flashed on her face before her embarrassment surfaced and it disappeared behind flushed cheek and a nodding head. Acknowledging her desire difficult, more difficult then acting on it but she would not deny it but she did not bow her head, she kept her gaze on him instead of lowering it. As new as this desire was, it was too… interesting to ignore. Curiosity did not control her but it certainly influenced her.

So, although she was surprised when Pravus moved to her, she was unflinching. She watched his smooth grace, she felt his strong fingers wrap around her arm and pull her to her feet, pull her to stand with him, her eyes never leaving him. With the first press of his lips against hers, the difference in the kiss was obvious.

His first kiss, though stolen from her, was tempting, almost teasing compared to the force of his next kiss. She recognized the hunger in it only because she felt herself respond to it, his desire pulling hers. Awakening strength, she did not realize a kiss could hold.

Tharalon felt his hands on her back, freely moving over the smooth wool of her gown, the pressure of his touch pushed the warmth of his hands into her skin. The intimacy of his hands on her ass was more startling then the first invasion of his tongue into her mouth but equally enthralling. She raised her hands, at first simply resting them passively on his arms but slowly her fingers tightened to a firm grasp. She was not strong enough to hold him, flushed and suddenly warm she sought only to keep her knees from weakening.

By accident or design, the stirring teasing of lip and tongue, the vibrancy of his touch forced her backwards but her hands did not release him. It was as if she was trying to pull him with her, and her grasp remained tight even as she stepped to the bed.

“I can show you more. I want you, Tharalon. I want to see what happens when an innocent girl takes what her craves, without reservation. The only thing that lies between you and your exploration is a question. Are you ready to push aside all that might hold you back from both enjoying and being enjoyed; ready to give in to your body, and let it decide what is best for the moment?”

She lowers her eyes only once as he speaks; shyly her gaze drops to his hands as they rest on her hips. The grasp is gentle, barely holding her, she has the illusion she could escape if she wanted to. She considered it, her curiosity puling her in the opposite direction. What would happen? What would he do? Imperceptibly, she shakes her head, realizing she does not care what he would do if she said no. As his thumbs move lower, and she feels a new light touch, her only interest is in what will happen when she says yes.

Her hands maintain their grasp of his arms except for the single finger that toys with the velvet of his coat. Unused to hiding her emotions, especially such new ones, Tharalon’s feeling are plainly evident, desire and curiosity overshadow shyness and fears hold on her is tenuous. Her voice catches in her quick breath. “I can’t speak of what I do not know, but I do know, now, my body and my mind are aligned in desire. For different reasons, they want the same experience; crave the same exploration.”

To prove she is without reservations, her fingers tighten around his arms, and she pulls at him, her lesser strength succeeding only in pulling herself closer to him.

 

[LitShark]

Back in Black

Slythe hissed his supreme displeasure at Frost’s tight lipped rebellion before delivering a swift back elbow to the man’s already bloody face.

“HAWK! Chain him to the wall, beat him, starve him and make certain he doesn’t sleep.” Slythe barked at one of the convoy behind him. Sleep deprivation was one of Slythe’s favorite forms of torture, in the humid and near freezing stone dungeon, all it took most nights was a bucket of ice-water and loud drums. “Let’s see how much of that rebellion remains in him after his mind begins to devour itself.”

The Dark Lord’s black cloak whipped over the filthy damp ground as he stormed out of Frost’s new home. He took the opportunity to remind his newest sex-slave that he hadn’t forgotten about her by pounding his fist against her cell door before ascending the steps back up to his throne room.

There, standing in the center of the large chamber was the scout, who had helped him to capture Bellatonia earlier who had since been promoted to “Lead-Scout”.

“My Lord!” The man began suddenly, still dressed in his riding cloak. “The armies of both Morgiana and Pravus are moving!”

“An alliance? Are they advancing toward us?” Slythe asked, suddenly ready for war.

“No my Lord, they’re advancing upon one another, they seem poised to engage past the forest, at the boarder between the two territories.”

“Excellent!” Slythe grinned behind his skull mask.

“B-b-but my Lord… aren’t you worried that one side will absorb the army of the other and become powerful enough to oppose you?” The scout pried timidly.

“Don’t be a fool, have you any idea how stubborn those ungodly wretches are?” Slythe asked, his mind already spinning the thread of opportunity. “They’ll fight one another to the bone, ware one another down to a handful of weary troops. The bulk of Pravus’ might lies across the water on his little island and Morgiana has no navy, being landlocked. Down in our very dungeon we possess Winters’ trump card Frost, he will be a non factor. Ready the troops… I sense the knocking of opportunity.”

Slythe whipped his cloak again as he made his way back toward his chamber.

“And send me Kannet… I have an inspiration!”

 

[Katamari Roller]

Brita reached Slythe's chambers, trembling a bit in a mix of excitement and fear. What would Slythe's reaction be to her interest in the slave? Would anyone be punished?

She slid onto the bed, her white dress trailing behind, until she knelt in a half-meditative, half-resting position. Suddenly, Brita noticed she was holding two golden coins in her hand. And she had been holding them so hard her palm was a bit red because of the friction. Brita dropped the coins on the growing pile beside Slythe's bed. In the dark chamber, the tinkling of the coins seemed to have a life of its own... something on which Puntalos, the god of riches and knowledge, would agree.

With her white dress and fur coat spilling around her, like a fountain spewing its water out in the manner of a whale expelling air, Brita awaited for her master's arrival mustering a facade of calmness. She took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. She tried to remember something that calmed her mind. Something like... something like... like the time her mother held her in her arms during a snow storm, with both of them wrapped in the clothes Brita was wearing now.

Brita was no older than five years old at the time, but she still remembered the strange calmness that invaded her when, in her mother's warm bosom, she watched the snow fall. There was something unnatural about it, and a shiver ran up her spine back then. Something stirred inside her... and Brita knew with all certainty that that was the first time she had felt magic.

Brita was yanked off her hastily summoned memories when the door opened, and closed. She shivered, feeling as if something cold had suddenly fallen on her forehead. Out of reflex, a mental prayer to Iranna, the goddess of memories and feelings, started only to be interrupted by Slythe coming into Brita's sight.

 

[LitShark]

Slythe was finishing up his hushed conference with Kannet, his rasping voice finished a long whisper, barely audible over the creaking door. “They’ll never know what hit ‘em.”

The sight of Brita awaiting him made Slythe’s eyes light up. He clapped Kannet firmly on the back and dismissed him to begin work on whatever sinister plot Slythe had contrived. Once he was gone Slythe closed the door and removed his mask, smiling his crooked lips at Brita.

He had made little notice of her brief interaction with the sex slave but could tell by the glitter of apprehension behind her wide eyes that she was unsure if he held some sort of animosity toward her for her curiosity. Slythe responded by walking up to her and clutching her head, pulling her face against his chest yet again.

“You could have watched me punish her you know.” Slythe whispered softly against her scalp. “Would that not have sated your curiosity?”

Slythe stroked her long hair gently, looking down on her with love in his eyes. Yet again his reluctant fantasy crept into his mind, the thought of taking Brita… as a lover.

Brita was a virgin, untouched and unsoiled, even by Slythe. Though this young beauty was likely one of few who would have made love to him willingly, he had never indulged in her sweet forbidden fruit.

Slythe wasn’t sure about the principals or reason behind the cruel pecking order of who did and who didn’t possess magic, but he did know that it was far too precious a gift in Brita, to risk it all for a cheap lay. Slythe himself knew the agony of feeling your powers drain away to nothingness and he didn’t want to inflict that upon his darling Brita.

A soft kiss on the crown of her head was the extent to which he allowed himself to express his deep desire.

“The tides are turning in our favor my sweet.” Slythe said softly, “Soon our enemies will approach us halting, and we will drive them back into obscurity. I have a new project for you in advance of their arrival.”