Erotic Tales of the Nyphrazi - Complete 7 Part Series

by Minky St Anne

  Vyran moves closer and I’m transfixed when he stretches up and that sharp tongue of his shoots out to its full length and flicks one of my nipples. Easily done given they’re poking through strategically cut holes in the leather. A slight swivel of his head and the other bud receives attention too. Lord, I hadn’t realized just how long that tongue of his was. I’d squirm, but I can’t in this position.

  Vyran’s lips part again and I’m expecting more of the same, but rather than licking my nipples into hard points, he clicks, whistles and hums in that special language of his. I can’t help a squeak of surprise when the leather harness shoots me up in the air so that I’m now looking down on the top of his head. I keep forgetting how much power this godly lover of mine has.

  “Oh, my.”

  Even from up here I can see his tongue slip between his lips and move ever so slowly towards the heart of me. I twitch in an effort to move myself closer to him, but it’s no good, I’m stuck fast exactly where I am. No doubt, as he’s designed it. I’m whimpering before I feel that glorious organ wrap itself around my clit and squeeze. Hard.

  I moan softly, close my eyes and drop my head back so I can concentrate on the sensations swirling through me, but no sooner have I adopted this position, than Vyran stops what he’s doing.

  “Don’t stop,” I manage to gasp out.

  I wait, but when nothing else happens I open my eyes and look down. He’s not there.

  “Vyran!” I can’t believe he’s left me like this. Hanging, and horny as hell.

  I’ve yelled for him half a dozen times before he returns. He’s got Marlo with him. For once the God of Iron doesn’t look threatening; of more concern is his look of compassion.

  My internal alarm systems go haywire at the look he gives me as he walks to stand in front of me, his mouth level with my mons. “What’s wrong?”

  “You are, princess,” he says, softly and looking up at me briefly.

  “What? I’m fine.”

  “No. You’re not,” says Vyran. This disturbing comment is followed up with some of his clicking and whistling.

  This time I’m not surprised when the leather harness lifts me slightly. What does surprise me is Marlo positioning himself between my legs so that when I’m lowered, my core is perfectly positioned for his out-stretched tongue. It takes only the smallest glance to see that it’s not as sharp as Vyran’s and is instead wide and thick and gleaming with spit. I start to fight as much as the harness will let me, but Vyran walks behind me and puts a hand on either of my hips, stilling them and then forcing my sex towards Marlo’s glistening tongue.

  “Marlo is our healer. The enzymes in his spit with help you. We all have them, but Marlo more than any of us. We need to do this.” His tone tells me he’s not happy about it.

  “You are fucking joooooooking,” I manage to get this out despite keening wildly when Marlo drags his tongue through my slit.

  “When I wrapped my tongue around you before and squeezed, it shouldn’t have been pleasurable. But it was,” says Vyran, as my shoulders are lowered into his outstretched arms.

  Now I’m parallel to the ground, my head and shoulders supported by Vyran and my legs slung wide over Marlo’s shoulders, while his pulsing tongue slicks up and down my furrow, without let up. The longer he licks the more sensitive I become, until I’m whimpering for release. This is achieved when he plunges the full length of his tongue in and out of me a dozen times or more, the end exploring every inch of me.

  As the shudders die down, I’m vaguely aware of the harness taking my weight again.

  “Thanks, Marlo,” says Vyran, to the healer who’s already leaving the chamber.

  “Right, let’s get back to it,” says Vyran, before once again wrapping his tongue tightly around my clit.

  “Owwww!”

  “Good. Now we can proceed.”

  Chapter Six

  The joy of sex slowly returns as Vyran trains my body to once again respond to his every whim. With each session my desire mounts rather than diminishes as it had when I’d been coated in silver courtesy of Seolfer. My nerve endings are once again singing their little hearts out.

  After a particularly enticing ‘lesson’, Vyran and I lie replete on his bed of furs, idly toying with each other’s bodies.

  “Not that I want to see the bastard, but where is Seolfer?” After not seeing the bane of my life for a few weeks, I’ve eventually become curious.

  “Banished! He’s been sent to live with Gaiya the old crone you met when you first visited.” Vyran’s tone is unforgiving.

  “For how long?” I ask casually, but I’m unable to stop a little twinge of guilt at the thought that someone, no matter how odious, has been cast out of hearth and home on my account.

  “Life!”

  “Life? Isn’t that a little extreme since there was no lasting damage?”

  Vyran pulls away so he can look at me unbelievingly. “He tried to kill you.”

  I’m unable to respond, although my mouth hangs open ready to do so.

  “If we hadn’t removed the fascinum, the peaks would have increased in intensity and frequency until your heart gave out.”

  “But …”

  “Following a little, ah, persuasion from Axel, Seolfer admitted that if he couldn’t achieve Nysa with you he wanted no one else to, especially not me.”

  “In that case, fuck him!”

  “Exactly,” says Vyran settling himself back down beside me.

  “So, what’s the deal with the gift of power? Why did he want it so bad?”

  I know Ravyn’s heard my question by the change in his breathing, but I’m starting to think he’s ignoring me, before he finally responds.

  “We’d all heard the stories, but none of us believed them.”

  I wave my free hand in the air, to indicate he should continue.

  “When I achieve Nysa with you, my body is flooded with energy, lots of it. It’s powerful and it stays with me. I’m now stronger than any of my brothers. Something Seolfer wasn’t happy about.”

  “Ah. No wonder he was so ticked when he possessed my date and still couldn’t come!”

  “He possessed your date?”

  Looking sideways at Vyran I don’t need to be a behavioral scientist to work out he’s ticked about something. Only thing I can’t decide on is whether it’s because Seolfer possessed Gerry or the fact that I went on a date.

  “If he’d achieved Nysa in your realm, he would have siphoned all your energy and you would have died. Instantly.”

  “That mother-fucking asshole!”

  If I ever saw him again I was going to castrate the bastard, with a fucking tin opener if I had to.

  Only after I calm down and run out of expletives to describe Seolfer am I able snuggle against Vyran and mull things over.

  “Hang on a sec. If he’s living with Gaiya, does that mean she’s banished too?”

  “Most certainly.”

  “Because she tricked me into going home?”

  A curt nod from Vyran both answers my question and lets me know he doesn’t wish to discuss the matter any further. This is a pain because a part of me would love to know where they’d been banished too.

  Another place?

  Another plane?

  Another time?

  Next evening after I’ve finished my simple meal, Vyran strolls casually into the chamber I’ve come to think of as my own private dining cave, and grabs one of the tapers off the wall. He then takes my hand before leading me out of the cave and through the large cavern where all the brothers congregate at the end of each day. Some good-natured ribbing from the brothers sends us on our way.

  Other than a couple of young serving girls, I haven’t seen anyone other than the brothers in the weeks I’ve been living there. They either lived apart from the rest of their society because of their status, or the Nyphrazi are the smallest tribe in history and in danger of dying out if there are only two young females available.

  We walk hand in hand
up a long tunnel I’ve not explored before; its gentle curving slope tells me we’re heading higher into the mountain. Eventually the tunnel opens out into a large cavern the ceiling of which is a lattice of tree roots showing us to be close to the surface. Vyran lets go of my hand and walks around the perimeter of the cavern, lighting tapers as he goes, until the cave is aglow with their flickering

  “Are you ready?” says Vyran, his eyes dark with passion.

  “For what?” I’ve think I’ve got an idea, but my squirming girly bits want to hear him say it out loud in that husky voice of his.

  “The ceremony, to see if you’re ready to return to your home.”

  This isn’t what I was expecting him to say at all and thoughts of going home immediately stops any squirming on my part with my core cooling rapidly.

  “Leave?”

  “There is no other way. Our worlds are so different. If your visits here are too long, you’ll age rapidly in your own time.”

  “Why can’t I just stay here then?” I’m unable to keep an element of begging out of my voice and know I probably sound a little on the whiney side. Oh, how I’ve changed.

  “Because, eventually you’d die. And I don’t think I could face that.”

  “You’ll grow old too. We all do.”

  The sadness in Vyran’s eyes is answer enough.

  “Oh.”

  Rather than speak, he pulls me into a crushing embrace against his chest; holding me tight until he’s ready to proceed. He’s still squeezing me when I hear him clicking, whistling and humming up into the cavern.

  There’s a strange rustling that starts off softly but soon increases in volume. It’s only when I see fine dust falling around us that I look up. The tree roots are no longer a tangled mess at the very top of the cave and instead have dropped towards us. We’re trapped in the centre of the cave in a living jail.

  Stepping back from me, Vyran makes short work of the thong that holds my chamois sheath dress in place and it drops in a liquid puddle at my feet. My nipples don’t need any encouragement from Vyran and are soon hard little buds. They tighten even more when he bends down and blows softly on them. I try taking a step to get myself closer to him, but he puts his hands on my shoulders and stops me.

  “No, once the ceremony starts, we can’t touch. Best you get used to it.”

  “What?”

  “Shhhh, this is how it has to be.” Vyran lifts my arms out to the side and then put his knee between my legs and nudges them apart.

  It’s all I can do not to ride his thigh to my release.

  While I’m doing the Da Vinci thing again, Vyran has a chat to the tree roots surrounding us. They sway from side to side until I can feel tendrils gently slapping against my body. I’m unable to stop a squeak of surprise when, almost simultaneously the majority of them wrap themselves around my limbs and lift me gently into the air. They then maneuver me to Vyran’s liking, if his smile is anything to go by. I must admit to being happy about it myself when I see how close my jewel is to his mouth.

  Some finer roots get in on the action and I soon find my nipples lassoed securely and the lips of my sex gently spread to the sides. When a huff of warm air washes over my clit, I twitch my hips in an attempt to come in contact with something more solid. Although the roots allow me to move freely, my search is in vain. Even when I start to sway gently, I find the only thing touching me is the roots and Vyran’s warm breath.

  Eventually I collapse back into the roots’ embrace and give in to the sensations. But when the huffing turns to puffing I can feel my core opening to Vyran, with my body seeking to swallow him whole. I know it’s not my imagination when I hear his breathing speed up with each pffft of his breath now feeling like a soft tongue poking at me.

  “When you come, I’m going to get the roots to lower you so I can drive into you.” This is followed by the unmistakable sound of him hacking through the leather thong that secures the end of his fettyr around his waist. “Again and again.”

  The moan I grind out through my clenched teeth is a combination of arousal and wanton need for him to fuck me until I scream his name over and over.

  But still he doesn’t touch me.

  Sweeping his breath up and down over my clit, Vyran soon has my arousal centered on my sex, crowding my bud and bullying it into submission. True to his word, he has me coming without his having to touch me. I close my eyes against the dust falling on me, caused by my spasms yanking against the roots holding me up.

  True to his word, Vyran has the roots lower me in readiness for him to enter me, but rather than looking at the roof of the cave, I’m flipped in mid-air so that I’m now looking at its floor. With my legs spread wide and my core tilted up, he nudges for entry and I soon feel the crisscrossed laces of his leather fettyr pummeling the gentle nub just inside of me. In and out he plunges, slowly, with every inch of him a delight.

  He walks forward while still deep inside of me and I find myself angled up so I can once again see the stalagmites that dot the cave. That some of these look very similar to the organ that’s currently filling me is a visual turn-on in its own right. Because of the angle I’m hanging at, Vyran only has to push me forward for momentum to have me settling back on his length. We settle into a rhythm of push and pump until I’m whimpering for release.

  I don’t have to wait long before waves of feeling are rippling through me. Still Vyran keeps up the pattern and rather than die away I feel the sensations in my body building, even further. I’m ramping up towards coming for a third time when I hear Vyran clicking and humming to the tree roots. They pull me clear of him, resulting in a cry of frustration on my part, flip me around drop me back down again.

  After guiding me back onto his glorious, leather-clad length he slips in and out of me, slow and steady while rolling my nipples around between his fingers. When these same dexterous digits drop to the juncture of our bodies I’m soon shaking so violently that the roots nearly drop me. My screaming and his roar of release echo back at us from the walls of the cave until finally all is silent.

  When I’m able to, I look at Vyran to see if I can see any of this power he talks about. He seems unchanged until he opens his eyes. They’re glowing. When my gaze drops I know it’s not my imagination that his already impressive cock has grown a little.

  Vyran has to carry me back to our sleeping chamber, with my legs no longer able to support me. Even now, my body is still vibrating from the strength of the orgasm that had ripped through the pair of us.

  He lays me gently on the bed, lies beside me and then pulls the furs over us until we’re completely covered. I’m close to falling asleep, when Vyran shatters my peace.

  “You must return home soon,” he says, rubbing a length of my hair between his fingers.

  I take some pleasure in the fact he doesn’t sound happy about my leaving him, but thoughts of doing so, have me feeling down.

  “Already?”

  “Yes, if you don’t leave soon, you risk not being able to return to your own time.”

  “If I did stay, what would happen?”

  “You’d age. You’d die.”

  His response seems to be deliberately blunt, as though to stop the conversation dead.

  Ignoring his unspoken request, I ask exactly how long, expecting him to respond with something like fifty years or the like. More if I’m lucky.

  “A year.”

  “A year?”

  “A year before you withered and died. Maybe less.”

  “Oh.” I can’t think of anything better to say, I’m having trouble grasping the enormity of his answer. I have no trouble with the tears that are soon trailing down my face although I hide these from Vyran by rolling on my side and snuggling my back against his firm chest.

  Sleep doesn’t come and by morning my eyes feel as though they’re full of grit.

  I allow Vyran to bathe me one last time in preparation for him sending me home and a gentle climax is still thrumming through me when I realize I’m
back in my own bed. I lay there, listening for sounds of the household getting ready for the new day, but all is quiet. Strangely so.

  Crawling out of bed, I pull the curtains back, expecting light to stream in, but it’s still dark outside. A quick check of the clock on my bedside table shows me it’s only five minutes after I’d left, all those weeks ago.

  This whole space/time continuum thing is doing my head in.

  I get back into bed but once again, sleep eludes me. I know I haven’t seen the last of Vyran, but because we’ve been as good as glued at the hip for weeks, his absence is cruel.

  “Com’on, sleepy head,” says my mom, the following morning as she crosses my room to pull the curtains back. “Time you were up.”

  I’m tempted to respond with “What for?” but know the interrogation I’d receive as a result would be thorough.

  “My goodness, what on earth have you done to your hair?” My mom stands beside my bed looking down at me, her eyes wide in horror.

  “My hair?” I grab a strand off the pillow so I can look at it. “Oh, I, ah, put some ah henna through it. For a change,” I stumble out in reply.

  “I hope it’s not permanent.”

  “Hmmm, me too.”

  With my mom off back to the kitchen to get breakfast underway, I stagger out of bed so I can look at my new hair color in the mirror on the wardrobe.

  It’s red.

  No, actually, it’s copper.

  And that can only mean one thing. Ciprus must be next in line!

  As my gaze drops down my reflection, my eyes are soon as wide as my mom’s had been.

  My nipples are encased in little copper pasties, permanently, by the feel of things.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Copper pubes? That’s my social life fucked right there.