Erotic Tales of the Nyphrazi - Complete 7 Part Series

by Minky St Anne

  God of Copper

  Erotic Tales of the Nyphrazi

  Part 3

  Chapter One

  It’s no good; no matter what I try I can’t get these blasted copper pasties off my nipples. Well, not without removing a nipple in the process. It looks as though I’m stuck with my copper colored hair and pubes too, with no amount of hair dye ridding me of the garish color. I’d even had a go at removing my pubes completely, using a couple of tubes of hair remover to do so. But next morning they were back and, if anything, more luxuriant than ever. I didn’t dare attempt a second session after that for fear I’d end up having to plait them to keep them under control.

  Yep, I’ve definitely been marked by Ciprus, Nyphrazi God of Copper, good and proper.

  The bastard!

  On the plus side, it’s been a couple of months and I haven’t seen any other signs of him. Sadly, neither have I seen any sign of Vyran, my God of the Woods. No more erotic dreams, nothing. Just like before, it’s as though there’s a barrier been erected between the two of us.

  I’m still working at the cafeteria at the mine and have even been promoted to cooking duties with Judy having retired to Hawaii. Picturing that lily white and shriveled old girl lying on the beach, plastered in coconut oil is still a head-shaking experience.

  Glory, of course, continues to rule the place with a cast iron oven mitt.

  The major change at work is that with my new over-the-top copper locks, I’m being hit on less, with whole days now passing without a single proposition. Pavlovian or otherwise.

  Glory sniffs the steam roiling from the humungous pot of cabbage soup I’m stirring. “Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm, mmmm that smells good!” she says, with genuine enthusiasm.

  I wish I could agree. The stench of boiled cabbage isn’t one I’d call ‘good’. Tenacious is more apt with the majority of the clothes in my closet now reeking of the stuff. Yep, what’s left of my pitiful dating life is being killed off, one pot of soup at a time.

  Still, I’m enjoying the extra money that my promotion has resulted in and can even see my credit card balances dropping, albeit incredibly slowly. Not that I’m going to stop there. If I can grit my teeth and hold out for another year then I’ll have a decent chunk of change in the bank and can look for work further afield. Part of me still hopes I can get a job where I actually get to use my arts degree.

  “Hey cutie,” says a deep voice from somewhere behind me. I ignore it, knowing full well that the combination of orange hair, sweat from stirring fifty gallons of soup and the resultant stench, mean whoever it is, sure as hell aint talking to me.

  “Hey, red!”

  I can’t believe I’m actually going on an actual proper date. Copper hair, cabbage and all! As soon as I’d spotted Ben leaning over the counter that separated the kitchen from a dining room full of miners, I’d known we were a match made in heaven. The guy’s hair is redder than mine; if such a thing is even possible. Still, he’s cute for a ginger, in a Prince Harry kinda way. It also helps that he’s remarkably freckle-free.

  Pulling into the carpark of the nicest bar in town, I’m relieved to see the place isn’t heaving like it usually would be on a Friday night. This is more than likely due to Christy Weaver’s engagement party. It’s as close to a society event as you’re going to get in a town like this and I’m still pissed that I didn’t receive an invitation. Sure I’d been away for a good few years but we’d been close before that.

  It doesn’t take long to spot Ben sitting in a booth towards the back of the bar. I’m sure I’m standing out just as brightly. I feel like a fucking beacon, to be honest, even with a hat pulled low over my ears. I’m definitely dressing darker to compensate for my bright hair color. Bloody Ciprus.

  Not long after I’ve slid into the booth opposite him, he leans over and gently strokes the side of my face. I have to admit to being a little love struck by the tenderness he shows towards me although that’s quashed when his hand veers upwards and he whips my beanie off and puts it down on the bench seat next to him.

  “How can you hide that gorgeous hair of yours?”

  I open my mouth to reply, but realize there’s no easy way to tell a redhead that you, personally, loathe the color. In the end I shrug and this seems answer enough for him.

  The evening is pleasant and, as it progresses, Ben makes no secret of the fact he’d like to take things further. While I’m sorely tempted, I can also feel those cursed copper pasties nudging against the inside of my bra, and so I ignore his less than subtle hints that we should go back to his place. As it is, I’ve had to leave my jacket on to hide the twin peaks that are in danger of ruining my best sweater. Not something you want to have to explain on a first date.

  Standing in the gloomy carpark next to my truck, Ben pushes me back against the cab, and leaning into me, gives me a toe-curling kiss. It’s the first kiss I’ve had in ages and it is bliss. On my disastrous date with Gerry he’d been more interested in simply fucking me, than any romance, while Vyran seems to prefer using his tongue on other parts of me. Just thinking of the superb head that man is capable of has my girly bits squirming and seeking out the nearest male.

  It’s something Ben takes as a sign of encouragement.

  His hands skim up inside my quilted jacket and knowing where they’re heading has me pushing gently on his chest to put some distance between us. I don’t want him reaching his goal only to find my nipples aren’t so much hard as industrial in nature.

  He holds his hands up in the air in surrender, but this doesn’t stop him moving back in for another kiss. While that dexterous tongue explores my tonsils I rummage blindly in my bag for my keys, eventually finding them at the very bottom of a side pocket.

  “It’s been fun,” I manage to get out while his lips are still plastered to mine.

  He pulls back enough that he can look at me. “You’re going?” I can hear the surprise and disappointment in his voice.

  “Ah, yeah, I need to, ah, yeah. But it’s been fun.”

  I have to feel sorry for the poor guy; he looks like someone’s just chucked a bucket of cold water over him, which I have done, sexually speaking.

  It’s only when I’m safely out of town that I scream my frustration at not being able to take things further. Ben is a nice guy and if it wasn’t for the accessories adoring my nipples I’d have been all over him.

  “Ciprus, you fucking asshole, get these sodding things off of me!”

  The only response is a loud clap of thunder. Certainly, it’s loud enough for me to hear it over the noise of my truck crunching along the snow-covered road. For a second the world is lit up, with everything around me visible in the bright white flare of lightning. Crap, I hate driving in weather like this. The quicker I’m home the better.

  It’s only a miracle that doesn’t have me leaving the road when lightning hits its snowy surface directly in front of my truck. Slamming on my brakes I skid to a stop, ending up sideways to any oncoming traffic. I’m still humming with adrenalin when I realize the truck is surrounded by a soft white glow. Even from inside the cab I can smell ozone.

  “Weird.”

  On seeing headlights further down the hill, I put my truck into gear, and then inch slowly off the side of the road and out of the way. I also need to get my heart rate under control before I tackle the zigzag bit that’s between me and home. Winding my window down, I wait in readiness to speak to the driver of the other vehicle, because no Alaskan is going to drive past a stationary truck without checking everything is okay.

  I needn’t have bothered when they steam straight past me without slowing down. When I spot it’s my brother’s truck, I’m doubly confused. No way would he leave me sitting here. I hunt through my handbag and eventually find my mobile, itching to abuse him soundly, but a quick check of my phone lets me know I’m in yet another dead-zone. Actually stitch that, the phone’s completely lifeless. Maybe the lightning strike fried it completely?

  I’m about to pull back out onto the road
when the whiteness surrounding the truck closes in, until it’s inside the cab and I’m enveloped in it. Now the smell of ozone is overwhelming. So is the sensation that I’ve just been hooked up to a generator.

  My truck’s engine stops without so much as a shudder and I’m stunned by the eerie lull that follows. Certainly it’s quiet enough that I can hear the cloud of white that coats my body humming away in pulses. Any sense that this is soothing is smashed when my nipple covers start to hum too and I’m rocked by the sensation of my buds being tugged and teased.

  It says a lot about my experiences with the Gods of Nyphrazi over the preceding months that this doesn’t strike me as odd, that I calmly accept that some unseen force is having its way with my body.

  The cloud swirls over me before dipping down between my legs and I’m unable to stop myself spreading them wide to give it better access. I’m not disappointed. The pulsing purr on my clit is outstanding and has me scooting down in my seat as though to give the strange cloud better access. Not that access seems to be an issue if the way it vibrates up into the very depths of me, both front and back, is anything to go by.

  It’s only when I feel it build inside my vagina until it becomes hard and unforgiving rather than soft and ethereal, that I freak out completely.

  “Seolfer!”

  So much for that asshole having been banished for good!

  I’m still having nightmares about that bastard brother of Vyran’s slamming me with a silver-lined love box. He’d had me climaxing around the clock to the point I’d nearly died. You always imagine it’d be a good way to go, but trust me the novelty wears off after the first week. It had taken hard work on Vyran’s part for me to get my sensitivity back after the experience.

  Turning the key, I’m relieved when the truck starts first time. I jam it into gear and floor it as though a hoard of demons is after me. Disconcertingly, the white cloud stays where it is, in the cab, as do all its inherent sensations meaning I’ve got to stop every half mile or so and wait while I ride out another orgasm. They start out small, but by the time I pull the truck into the barn at home, they’re rip-roaring and keeping quiet is becoming an issue.

  Timing is going to be everything.

  Chapter Two

  Sitting slumped in my truck, I feel the orgasm building and only biting on the strap of my handbag stops me from screaming the roof of the barn down when it explodes. Only when I’m down to a whimper, do I throw myself out the cab, and stand on legs that barely hold me. Slamming the door, it’s as though the connection between me and the white cloud has been broken, although I can still feel a hard presence jammed deep inside of me.

  Walking is tricky and the only way I can do so without going off every half dozen steps is to walk with my legs apart like someone out of a Western. Of course, this is okay while I’m out here, but as soon as I get inside the house, I’m going to need to walk like a girl. I keep the cowboy stance up until the moment I open the door from the mud room and step into the house proper.

  The relief at seeing both my parents engrossed in books is immense. My brother isn’t in sight and so he’s probably already gone to bed. Damn, I could have given him grief for ignoring me.

  “Did you have a nice time,” says my mom, looking up at me briefly.

  “Yes it was lovely, but I’m bushed. Goodnight.” I try to sound as nonchalant as I can and puff out a sigh of relief when I get away with it.

  Shutting the hallway door behind me, I’m immediately John Wayne again in hopes of keeping the sensations to a minimum. The sound of the shower shutting off is all the incentive I need to barrel down the hall to the safety of my room. Even with legs wide apart, because of all the movement, I’m ramping up for another orgasm by the time I shut my bedroom door. Collapsing backwards onto my bed, I let it tear through me, once again gagging myself with another big ol’ bite of handbag.

  Waking some time later, I immediately become conscious that the white cloud is now in my room. Fuck it all. I thought I’d managed to lock it in the truck. It doesn’t take long to realize it’s this that’s woken me. There’s not an erogenous zone in my body that isn’t being hummed and I can feel that hard presence pumping in an out of me without let up. I have to give it to Seolfer he’s managed to come up with a different trick to last time. I can definitely feel the presence leave my body before plunging back in again.

  Before the sensations get the better of me, I wait until I feel it leave my body, and then shove my hand between my legs.

  “Hah! Gotcha, you cock.” The irony isn’t lost on me.

  I yank the presence free of my body and hold it up to the light expecting to see the sparkle of silver.

  “Copper?”

  Not only is the dildo copper, it’s also beautiful in its own way. It’s as though someone has stuffed half a dozen golf balls into a copper condom. All dips, curves and dimples. No wonder the sensation had been so mind boggling. I’m reluctantly admiring the workmanship, when I feel myself filling again. This time when it moves the sensation is different, not quite so slick, and a little rougher.

  “Fuck you Ciprus,” I hiss over the sounds of slurping and suction.

  Tossing the first dildo on the bed, I make short work of grabbing its replacement.

  Again it’s beautiful, but the swirling ridges that thread the length of it look as though they’re designed to literally ‘screw’ the recipient with not as much thought given to stimulus.

  “For fucks sake!”

  I drop the copper screw and put my hand between my legs in readiness to grab my next probe. I don’t have to wait long with it only managing one thrust before I snag it.

  One thrust is more than enough.

  There’s nothing pretty about this one, it’s ugly, with enjoyment being the last thing in mind with its design. Sure it’s ribbed, but definitely not for pleasure, being as it is devoid of any soft edges. It had felt like a rasp when it pumped in and out of me just then and if it got up any speed. I’d be ripped to shreds.

  Understanding the dildos are only going to become uglier and to escalate in the pain department, I grab the first dildo and shove it back in as quickly as I can. The thrum of pleasure that shoots through me lets me know I’ve done the right thing.

  I’m scaling the dizzy heights again when I feel what I’m presuming is a copper butt plug, coming to life inside me. It throbs gently in time to the domes that cover my nipples and the dildo that’s juddering its way in and out of my cleft without let-up. I hold onto the orgasm as hard as I can, keeping it hovering on a knife edge and not allowing it crest, but eventually the overwhelming fusion of stimulation has me disintegrating.

  In the morning, I’m relieved to find I’m free of copper dildo and butt plug, although my nipples are still bullet-proof. Knowing my mom’s fondness for barging into my room first thing to open the curtains, I rummage around on my bed searching for copper dildos, but there are none to be found. Hopefully it’s the last I see of them although I suspect I’ll be hoping in vain. No sooner have I confirmed my bed’s a copper-free zone than mom knocks on my door.

  “Morning!” Her tone is breezy and full of energy. “Don’t forget we’re off to the Carter’s today. You need to be up and dressed. The float plane’s booked for ten.”

  “What’s the time now?” I ask without opening my eyes.

  “’Eight thirty.”

  It takes the merest of calculations to appreciate that if I want to have breakfast, I’m going to have to move it. Even so, I wait for her to leave before I throw the covers back. I doubt any explanation I could come up with would convince my mom that my breast accessories are a good idea. She’d given me hell for simply getting my ears pierced.

  It’s only when I swing my legs over the side of the bed and sit up that I feel a twinge from amongst my pubes.

  “What the hell?”

  I peel myself back with dread, something that’s well-founded when I see the small copper dome that covers my clit. I tug at it experimentally to see if it�
��s removable but all that does is shoot a succession of spasms throughout my body.

  Fuck, I thought I’d gotten away with just the pasties.

  My shower, while brief, is one of the most stimulating I’ve ever had. By the time I’ve rinsed properly, I’m leaning against the wall with my knees locked to stop my legs from buckling under me.

  The drive down to the bay is one of pure rapturous agony for me. The only thing in my favor is that my brother isn’t on this trip with us, meaning I’m in the back seat on my own. I’m having trouble hiding my reactions to every bump and hollow we encounter. The plane trip isn’t a joy either. Well it is, but hiding the mini explosions that are rocketing through my body isn’t easy.

  By the time we’re safely at the Carter’s place, I’m exhausted and thankful when everyone leaves me on the deck to have a snooze in the weak sun. I feel as though I’ve just nodded off, when my sleep is interrupted by a deep male voice.

  “Well, who do we have here? I don’t think I know any redheads.”

  Whoever he is, he’s standing between me and the sun, forcing me to open my eyes to see who the obstacle is.

  “Jake? I didn’t realize you were back home.”

  “Sure am. You up for a ride?”

  That’s weird. Jake’s never come onto me before. I’m still stuttering internally for a response when he continues.

  “Dollar and Amber need a good run.”

  “Oh, right. Sounds like fun.”

  “Com’on then, give me a hand with the saddles.” He grabs my hands and drags me to my feet. It’s only then I think on what a dumb idea getting on a horse is. If I’m a shuddery mess after my dad’s truck and the float plane, what the hell is riding a horse going to do to me?

  I soon find out.

  Nothing.

  Nada.