by Regina Watts
“This serving girl of yours seems to take great delight in being ignored.”
“They love being reduced to sex toys…we put all the happy, pretty sluts in the baths. Especially when they don’t speak the common tongue well…you wouldn’t believe how slaves gossip…oh, yes, but I love a gossipy slave…any excuse for a whipping, you know, Rorke…oh, just wait, just wait…”
Never had the thought of punishment made me so throb with desire; yet her promise of a whipping did just that. Perhaps it was the obvious relish she held for the idea. Perhaps it was the thought of submitting to a woman who I could have physically overpowered in a battle but who was versed in magic and social graces far in excess of anything I had until then been acquainted with. Whatever the cause, I was swept by a ferocious storm of lust. Soon I eased the elf-girl upon her back and made sure Valeria watched while I slid my member into a tight little hole that was absolutely drenched with excitement. Lovely Lira almost screamed at once, gasping sharply, her body’s glovelike embrace second to none.
Except, I knew, for Valeria. It was her embrace I wanted most of all; so, to earn that embrace, I watched Valeria’s pleasure while I impaled her blonde maid again and again. The elf-girl moaned and trembled, bracing herself down against the rocks and offering her hips up to me. I rose upon my knees and rode hard into her, using her body at the pace her eagerly bucking hips determined. Soon I caught her by the pelvis and her slender legs wrapped around my waist, linking tight around me to deepen the plunge of a blade meant for Valeria.
“Oh, Burningsoul…she certainly likes it, doesn’t she…”
Valeria’s fingertips, after trailing over her collarbone, soon glided down her body. She spread her labia and the eager silver-haired elf dived below the water, her tongue lashing back to work in tandem with her fingers. She moaned into the lascivious kisses of the brunette elf who was subjected to the occasional tweaked nipple or slap on the backside and seemed to love every last second of it. At the sight of such casual wickedness from Valeria, I redoubled my pace within the sacred halls of the pretty blonde elf. My partner was soaking wet and desperately tight; Valeria moaned with pleasure to see it all, commanding me, “Harder, slave—ride her harder. Give it to her rough, very rough. That’s what she’s begging for…oh, that’s right, look at her, look at how much she likes it…”
It wasn’t very many more strokes before Lira reached a noisy climax that made her body ripple rapidly around me. She cried out in that musical language again, touching herself and pawing at me. When I ignored her, she moaned and shuddered with such violent pleasure it was like a second orgasm.
“You had ought to let me give you a firsthand demonstration, Materna.”
Chuckling, moaning, still evidently not having peaked to an orgasm yet, the Materna looked closely at me and said, “Take it out of her and bathe yourself, then put on your clothes.”
Such a command was unbelievably cruel at such a moment. After all the rapturous torment of watching her pleasure, I was very close to relief. She knew it. She waited for me to complain or to argue. Instead, head dizzy, I forced myself out of the whining elf who pawed and kissed at my chest. After applying a tender kiss to the corner of her mouth, and let Valeria watch me bathe and dress. She moaned at the sight of my shining cock bobbing in the air and I willed her to have mercy, to invite me into her side of the pool and into her; but the wicked priestess of Roserpine only smiled, waiting, and eventually I dressed in silence.
By the time I was back in clothes that felt like they ought to have combusted on contact with my body, blonde Lira had long-since dove back in the pool and rejoined the orgy on the other side. I watched, amazed at the completely altered set of mores I beheld in this, yes, very sexually liberated society of women. Perhaps it was only the manners of the decadent upper society of the durrow; I could not yet discern, for my mistress was obviously permitted many luxuries and privileges that no other Nightland elf could have been said to enjoy. One of those luxuries was forcing me to watch, full to bursting, as the three elf serving girls caressed and massaged and licked and kissed and penetrated her to a slow-building but ultimately quite explosive orgasm. Her long cry of ecstasy rattled my bones; I shuddered, desiring her more than ever as a consequence of her exhibition and cruelty.
After coming out of her climactic stupor, the priestess moaned and stretched and said something in that elfin tongue. The slaves all laughed, then chattered happily as birds while they set about letting down their mistress’s hair to be washed. Our mistress’s hair, I supposed then.
Yes—somehow, she was my mistress, too. And that seemed like a very odd sort of privilege in and of itself, though I could not then fully imagine why. I only knew that my body desired her as ferociously as the plains cat its hoofed prey. She did not address me further during the baths; she only studied me absently, as though I were a work of art, while the women with whom she cryptically conversed washed her body, then anointed her with oils and creams. When she at last stood outside of the bath her body gleamed with attention and euphoric vigor, each plump inch of her flesh flushed and looking warm to the touch. My prick still throbbed. Valeria smiled at it while she crossed to me in the fresh gown she had been given for the dark. Although the cut was somehow more modest, the dress in itself was literally translucent across her stomach and so short that I glimpsed a hint of the shining flesh hidden within the shadows of her thighs. Agonized, on the verge of explosion, I bowed to her and felt as though I may well have passed out if I bent any lower.
“You have been extremely patient, slave,” observed my mistress, who accepted the sheer negligee that enclosed her little dress. While her hair was combed down her back by one pair of hands while another pair of hands braided a few sections of it, she reached forward beneath the tunic that was my only defense aside from my boots. Into my breeches this cruel hand slipped to grab hold of my struggling manhood. While I choked back a gasp, she moaned to pull on me, her fingers trailing up to the head that she then teased with the tips of her cruel, cold fingernails.
“Let’s retire for the night. You’ve proved yourself so reliable so far that I think I might even let you watch over me as I sleep this very night…what a big, hard cock my new slave has! Oh”—she moaned, her eyes boring passionately into mine as she released me and turned toward the door—“maybe I do need a bull…one’s line is important to consider after a time, after all…”
I had never given much thought to siring children, truth be told, but the mere idea of filling Valeria with my seed and seeing her belly grow with children sharpened the thrill I felt in looking upon her. By the time of our departure, the baths were full of a great deal more lovely durrow—all of whom hastened out of the way or bowed from where they stood on Valeria’s passage. My mistress ignored them all, her negligee rippling behind her like the train of a gown.
Transit up the tower in that box felt the task of centuries. Valeria leaned against the back wall, her eyelids heavy as she assessed me steadily the whole way up.
“Will you tell me,” I chose to ask her to ease my own tension, my own overwhelming desire to crush her body beneath the lust of mine, “about this dream that heralded my coming?”
She smiled somewhat thinly at me upon such a question. “You are very inquisitive, Paladin of Weltyr. It reminds me…I do not think I have heard a servant of Weltyr speak on the matter of Roserpine with the respect you showed during our discussion in the baths.”
“All gods are due respect and veneration, Materna…because all gods are, like the world itself, lesser emanations of Weltyr.”
Valeria laughed, her teeth a white flash behind her lips. “You do have interesting ideas, slave.”
“As do you, Materna. I may not agree with your interpretation of the godhead, but the passion with which you believe is admirable to me.”
“It is my entire life,” she said, studying her ring once more as the box stopped its rumbling and its doors slid open. The guards in the hall stood at attention while we emerge
d, Valeria leading the way to her chambers’ doors without looking. “Roserpine has given me more than sufficient proof that she shepherds my existence. And now that you are here, slave, that is only more evidence.”
Within the privacy of her chambers, the priestess sighed deeply and slid her negligee from her shoulders. It fell to the floor and I held my breath at the round nates peeking from beneath the hem of her ultra-short gown. While she made for her bedroom, she waved a hand at me and said, “I’ll have a mug of mead from the bar over there.”
Somehow, though we were the only two in her apartment, I didn’t fully realize she spoke to me. Perhaps it was because I was not then used to getting women drinks as though I were a barkeep; but, as rattled as I was by this intense desire for her, it was a pleasure to fetch a mug and fill it with the contents of a bottle I de-corked. The honey wine’s sweet elderflower aroma made my mouth water, but I resisted stealing a sip without invitation. That was a classic nursery tale error when a man was brought to faerieland, and the Nightlands seemed most certainly to be that.
When I found her in the bedroom she stood again amid the plants of her private garden, focused on the snake that happily scented the air from the branch where it lay. I pressed the mug into her hands, watching the serpent with her. “I’m not sure I’ve seen a python so closely. It is beautiful, I must admit.”
“He is a good-natured snake. Prefers resting to anything else in the world…I don’t know that I really blame him. What else is there to do? We keep the tower too clean for mice to long dwell here, so he’s not much of a hunter.”
“You just think that’s the case…maybe he’s doing a better job than you perceive he is.”
Valeria laughed at that, knocking back a swig of the mug while trailing away from me and once more reclining in her bed. I held my breath from the distance of the garden, my eyes lured constantly to the flashes of shimmering flesh between her sometimes parting thighs.
“That could be so,” she said, spreading her legs more willfully when she noticed the direction of my gaze. “So, Son of the Wanderer, how is it that you’ve found yourself in the Nightlands as the slave of durrow?”
“I descended into the earth with three companions—an old man, an elf, and a dwarf—in pursuit of the Scepter of Weltyr. The spirit-thieves had long since plundered it and perverted it for their own cryptic rituals, and I was tasked with retrieving it. The Temple granted me a small sum of gold with which I assembled a team. Hildolfr—the old man—was our guide, the elf called Branwen did the task of taming and calming the wild creatures we encountered, and Grimalkin…mostly got into arguments with me.”
“And where are these companions of yours now?”
“Wherever the Scepter is, assuming they have not already pawned it off to whomever put them to the task of swiping it from under my nose. They betrayed me in the den of the spirit-thieves; all three of them, even Branwen, turned against me.”
I could not help the great pain—the insult—that showed in my face at the thought. Valeria smirked lightly, her fingertips trailing back and forth over the swell of one lovely breast. “I take it you were laying siege to this Branwen elf during your travels together?”
“Aye, and much too blinded by her charms to wonder at the aims of her seduction. All three were hoping that I might agree to sell the relic for a higher price to another bidder. They found me disagreeable and attacked me, leaving me for dead and taking the relic with them.”
“Small wonder you are so accepting of your new lot in life as a slave to the durrow…at least we are forthright about our tendencies.”
“It does seem as if subterfuge is something of a pastime here…yet, it’s not all fun and games with you, Materna. I see it in your eyes—hear it in your voice when you speak of this dream that showed me to you.”
“Dreams,” she corrected, “plural.”
Though I arched my brow at that, she set her mug aside and, to my aching thrill, drew the hem of her night dress up the curve of her waist. “Undress, slave.”
After setting down Strife, I hurried to obey her. My prick stung to feel her eyes, my body on full display for her lascivious interest while she sat naked at the head of the bed. She moaned to simply see me, her hands running over her body and back up to her neck. “What a splendid example of manhood you are, Burningsoul…pleasing to behold, every last inch of you. I thought about forcing you to wait longer to put that rod of yours to use, but after seeing the fucking you gave Lira, why, I’m aching for attention.”
“Surely not near as much as I am, Madame. Never in all my days have I seen a woman so uninhibited. So sensual. Powerful.”
Her hands had swept back down over her breasts and one now fell between her legs to slowly massage the glistening labia still swollen by the attention of the elf-girls. I held my breath, dizzy with lust while she idly teased herself and looked upon me. “And I have never been so eager to use a new slave…oh, my. Now that I think of it, it’s been much too long since I’ve had a man in me. I usually just have a girlfriend or other slave help me with a toy, or do it myself…but I’d much rather have you for a toy, Burningsoul. Come here”—the splay of her legs widened and she spread herself with the tips of her fingers—“put that mouth to use again.”
Even before I touched her, she dripped with arousal: but from the moment my lips made contact with her most aching nerve, her body was rocked with moans that echoed through every room of her apartment. Encouraged from that fiery start, I took up the task of keeping the petals of her body parted wide so as to allow my tongue to batter against her smallest center of lust. She moaned, trembling instantly, her nails tickling over my scalp and down the back of my neck as she held my head against the musky incense of her temple. I nuzzled her, my tongue lashing up into that sacred delta, throbbing with a desperate desire at the simple taste.
I ignored the organ throbbing against my stomach. There was no way for me to satisfy myself when this cruel woman splayed before me, moaning, panting, gripping my hair and scratching at my back. “Oh, Burningsoul! Why, slave, oh, there has never been a new acquisition of finer quality in all this tower…oh, yes, yes, oh, that talented tongue—your fingers, give me your—ah!”
My middle and ring finger slid into the tight embrace of her cunt and she twitched around me, her channel fluttering much as her legs tightened about my wrist. I had lifted my head and now looked boldly into her face while my fingers pumped in and out, rapidly beating against the spongy surface of her dripping cavern. She squeezed around me, gasping, thrusting, rocking her hips up against my palm and toying with the purplish peaks of her nipples. While I lowered my head to suckle one, my tongue battering its stiff surface as my fingers battered the inner chamber of her cunt, Valeria ran her fingers down my back and lightly scratched at my flesh.
“Burningsoul, oh, sweet fuck! By Roserpine’s love, you are as I dreamed you—oh, so talented, oh, Son of the Wanderer! Is that great prick of yours aching for me?”
“The agony you provoke in my body is greater than that of any woman I have ever known. I would be a slave to you for all eternity to have your body just once, now. How you flow!” I marveled down at her, at the sight of my soaked fingers sliding so easily in and out of her body. “It seems you are denying yourself as much as you are denying me.”
“Oh, oh—I get everything I want, slave…if I don’t deny myself sometimes, who will? Oh, Burningsoul, permit me to taste your mouth—”
My breath hitched and I lifted my head, working my fingers in and out of her until she pushed my hand away. At the same time, she kissed me, the soft silken pillows of her lips enfolding mine, her spry tongue weaving in against my aching own. I groaned at the sweetness of her breath, at the hot and fast stimulus of her gifted tongue; so enchanted was I that I hardly realized she had eased against my shoulders until I was on my back, at which point she straddled my hips with her shimmering apex suspended a mere handful of inches above my pulsing desire.
“What sweet kisses, slave…what
a fine weapon. No wonder Odile and Indra were so reluctant to give you up—amazing this Branwen fool spurned you as she did.”
“Amazing, perhaps, but I’m relieved now to know that she did…I would rather be tormented by you than satisfied by her, Materna.”
Chuckling, the priestess lowered until the dripping lips of her body barely brushed the head of my pleasure. I felt on the verge of swallowing my tongue, so unbearable was the ecstasy she inflicted upon me. The smooth river between her lips flowed while she worked herself upon me, moaning to grind her aching nerve along the shaft of my member. I twitched with lust every time she permitted me to approach the moment of penetration, but never to truly enjoy it; she might take my tool in her gentle hand and ease it against her demanding burrow, but I was never permitted more than a quarter of an inch’s probing within before she shifted me away and used me to stimulate her nerves elsewhere. I groaned, aching, my skull feverish with the need for release.
“How fun you are to tease, slave…I think I’ll do this and worse to you all the time. You certainly did enjoy watching me in the baths, didn’t you…”
“What man wouldn’t? Fain would I see you caressed and kissed by any lovely slave-girl, your fellow durrow, even another man. You are so eager, so receptive and commanding of attention, that I find myself absolutely enraptured by your body.”
Chuckling, the Materna looked down at my member already gleaming with the perfumes of her body. With a glance back up at my face, she commanded, “You are not to release until I give you explicit permission. If you do, I will whip you senseless.”
The idea was far more thrilling than it was deterring, but all the same I nodded and managed to dryly produce the words, “As you wish, Materna.”