by James Hunt
Trent snorted as the ridiculousness of his task became apparent. She had seen through him, but for some reason had decided to show him that rather than continue the mask, as she put it, she had taken the first step and shown part of her hand. His mind wandered - it explored the many sides to their situation and all those involved. What was The Father not telling him? Why was Helrith to be spied on along with this Hekarim? This was some strange territory he had crossed into, and one she was right about -- he was a pawn. Trent took orders, but he wasn't a pawn and detested being one. He was going to change the rules.
"Do you remember your name?" He asked off-handed.
"I remember everything; my amnesia was no accident." She said.
"Will you tell me your name?" Trent said as he looked over his shoulder at her.
"Why do you need to know?" she asked calmly. It was an abrasive answer, but the tone in her voice had something hidden in it. Trent thought about it for a moment before the answer came.
"I was ordered to train you and report on your progress," He said. His voice had taken on a grating quality from the attempt to whisper and the heavy breathing from earlier -- it gave him an even more animalistic quality that caused a quiver between her legs. "I want to know what to put on the gravestone when you fail."
Soft hands touched the back of his neck and startled him; he hadn't heard her move. They stroked his shoulders as something wet touched his back between his shoulder blades. Her wet tongue slowly licked the sweat off the back of his neck, as her body came to entwine itself around him. Her lips nibbled his skin and made their way to his ear.
"I am The Mischevious," She whispered huskily into his ear. "Now fuck me one more time before one of us dies tomorrow." She reached around his waist and grabbed a firm hold of his cock and stroked it back to life. Her other hand went to his head, grabbed a handful of hair, and yanked it back sharply so she could work her tongue under his jaw.
"If you scream, I'll silence you." He growled.
"I know a little magic," she hissed into his ear. "I put up a silence barrier, no one can hear us." She sank her teeth into the side of his neck, eliciting a loud hiss of pain and pleasure from her captive. His veins bulged in her hands, and his member was hard and throbbing against her firm sensual grip. "Make me scream..." she begged into his ear.
With a sudden jerk he snagged a handful of her hair and pulled her head, and the rest of her, around to face him. With one powerfully muscled arm he picked her up by the waist and lifted her and himself up as in one fluid motion he pushed her against the far wall on top of the desk, and pinned her against it with his massive form.
Their lips met in frenzied, carnal war -- one trying to dominate the other -- and their tongues fought between them. His hands grabbed her wrists and pinned them beside her head against the stone. A muffled whimpered escaped despite her, and was rewarded by his lips disengaging her lips to ravage her neck. Her back tried to arch up into him in order to expose more of her sensitive skin to his ravenous lips, but he was firm in his grasp and wouldn't let her move. They flowed over her chest, lavishing her dark sweaty skin with rough kisses and the tingling burn of his stubble. One strong hand took over her wrists, holding them against the wall painfully as the other came behind her waist and pulled her hips to him. Hot, wet skin met his throbbing cock as it pressed and ground against her dripping sex.
Each thrust of his hips made his bulging member grind against her wet lips and rub her sensitive erect bud. With each forceful grind her voice betrayed her and moaned loudly to the open night air as her body begged for more. Trent was eager to oblige, but on his terms, sharp teeth pinched a nipple between them and his tongue lavished it. The dark skinned elf in his power squealed in ecstasy.
"More!" she begged. Her answer was firm hands bracing her as his hard cock started to press into her sex. Trent took his time, savoring the sensation as his thick flesh penetrated her. When he was mostly engulfed, he thrust in violently, the last inch eliciting another squeal of excitement from his captive. Her responses inflamed his desire even more, awakening the long repressed instincts once again. His body moved on its own, slamming his hard cock deep inside her again and again.
With each forceful thrust she gasped. Gasps turned to moans, moans turned to yelps, and then to screams of passion as he impaled her wet sex again and again with his throbbing member. His lips went from one breast to the other, suckling her pert mounds of flesh and teasing each nipple with teeth.
The Mischevious was set afire. Her restraint gone, her body thrust up to meet his as her heels dug into the small of his back trying to spur him on. Her voice screamed out in passion with each powerful stroke. Muscles tensed in her arms, trying to free themselves to action, but the death grip her lover had over her wrists sapped them of their strength -- it she struggled too hard, the bones in her wrists ground against each other, forcing the strength from them painfully. The struggling added to their excitement; the more she fought the harder he slammed into her.
Trent pounded into her with reckless abandon as his loins prepare to climax, his sudden burst of frantic, frenzied thrusting made her cry out in a long wail of passion.
"YEEESSSS!" She screamed as his body spasmed violently, and flooded her hungry sex with his seed. His breath caught in his throat as spasm after spasm marked each spurt of hot cum inside her.
Exhausted, and utterly spent, Trent fell backwards with her still in his grasp. The two of them collapsed onto the bed where she was content to stay entwined against him. Residual spurts from his still engulfed cock sent shiver after shiver down her spine and she purred against his neck. Overcome with satisfaction and sexual contentment she nuzzled his neck and sighed happily as she ran her fingers through the hairs of his chest.
Trent unfortunately could not share in this tender moment, as the physical effort had drained him of his stamina, and his grasp on consciousness.
*****
Kreth
How long had it been since he had been brought here? All sense of time came and went like the clouds that cluttered his mind and the ones that flew overhead in the sky. It was the drug -- the byproduct of a distilled bean resin that killed almost instantly, but assuredly. Knick a finger with a tainted knife, and if you cut off the arm soon enough you can save the victim. But once it entered the chest, it stopped the heart, the lungs, and all other organs instantly. There was no cure that was quick enough.
He focused his mind on simple facts to try and stay awake.
But he had learned a secret -- a self induced torpor. The poison decomposed in water, even the water in blood. If one could stop the heart quickly enough, and for long enough, the poison would grow inert before it could do any damage. However, waking up from torpor would be just as damaging, sometimes permanently. If one survived, the decomposed poison was also a powerful hypnotic drug. The master mystic that he learned this technique from took a month before he was back to his feet. It was a year before the master was ready to attempt it again. No other students that had attempted this had awakened again. No one had ever done what he had done. No one had ever beaten the poison.
He wobbled his limp head to one side and looked at his left arm. He could lift it. He could close the fist. But it was the only part of his body that he could move that well. His eyes worked, but it was always blindingly bright out, except at night. In the morning, once his captors left, he exercised his limbs and muscles to regain mobility. By noon, with the sun overhead and it being too bright to see, he covered his eyes with one of the tattered blankets around the nest and napped. In the evening, when they returned, they used him for recreation before all falling asleep.
They were Harpies, a dying breed of half men, half birds. They were the result of a mating between an elder Harpai and a large raptor. It was a crude necessity for a race banished and hunted by civilized peoples for their cannibalistic tendencies. Harpais and Harpies ate the dead -- just like scavenger birds. Their mother was a Harpai, a pureblood. She was ageless, immortal and powerf
ul, but capable of being killed, just like her kin. There was no telling how old she was, or just how strong. But she was the one that saw him for a plaything, and so long as she was in control, he was safe.
Their nest was a cleverly constructed net of rope and rough hewn boards, probably salvaged or stolen from farmsteads in the area. It wasn't without accommodations; there were pilfered blankets, pillows, straw beds and a few trinkets that caught the Harpies' eyes.
Her daughters were a curious duo, constantly poking and clawing at his limp limbs -- playing their game of "does he feel that?" As of yet, they hadn't bitten anything of his off. Their mother amused herself with his manhood; every night she tried to arouse his flesh, but just like the rest of him, there were mixed results and little reflex.
He thought back to the last time he had encountered either Harpies or Harpais; he knew it had been a long time, but the memories just couldn't make their way through his muddled brain. Nothing much did. At times it caused him fits of panic -- usually sparked when he couldn't remember the last day, or how long he had been there.
Every time they arrived at the nest it was a startling discovery to see these winged sirens alighting in the air for a moment before landing gently in the quite nest. First their mother arrived, with her golden and white feathered wings folding gracefully around her form like a strapless gown. Followed by her children, their mottled brown and black feathers hanging relaxed down their backs like cloak - they cared little for grace and even less for modesty. Their naked bodies barely seemed nubile by human standards, but by harpy standards their under endowed forms probably served for better flight. He couldn't remember facts as he once did. Unlike their mother who was almost completely human-like, from the waist down her children had spindly, feather covered legs ending in raptor feet. Their faces had a slight animalistic-avian quality. Their hair was straight and thick, almost quill-like. Their faces were round and flat, more human than animal, but when they flashed their sharp teeth it gave them a terrifying countenance, even when they didn't mean it to. Not wanting to risk staring he rolled his head to one side and took his normal blank-stare position out towards the east.
"Hungry?" She spoke softly and came to nestle herself next to his head. She laid on her side, and one wing unfurled under her slightly to expose a heavy breast. He nodded his head honestly -- he hadn't eaten all day, and the drug in his system impeded any protest. "Eat then." She said and with firm arms pulled his weak head to her waiting nipple. His lips latched instinctively and he sucked. Something about her made it difficult to resist anything she told him to do.
The Harpai woman held her breath and let it escape slowly over the long pleasurable moments of his suckling. Her head slowly leaned back as her eyes fluttered shut. Her mother's milk flowed, and he drank it deeply without letting a dribble escape. For days she had nursed him back to health in this manner. He was too weak to hunt, and even too muddled in the head to eat what they brought him. It wasn't all too unpleasant for her either; in fact it made her want him all that much more. Their nest was more blissful with him here, he was warm at nights and her daughters would soon know the pleasure she knew, and eventually have offspring of their own. Their family would grow large enough to defend their home once again.
She was content, despite the alluring waves of pleasure from his feeding.
When she finally opened her eyes again, Yuma was nestled between his legs and staring at the limp flesh there. She had taught them what it was for, but sometimes their curiosity got the better of them. They had been sternly warned not to hurt him or bite him, and if they behaved themselves she would give them a treat.
"Harla, come preen your sister." Her voice caught suddenly in her throat from a surge of pleasure coming from her breast -- he had bitten a bit too hard. Harla, who had his hand in hers and was inspecting it over and over dropped it and crawled over to her sister who sat between his legs. "Yuma, you too." Yuma looked up from moving his limp thick meat back and forth to Harla and sat up straight.
Harla came to sit in Yuma's lap, wrapping her legs around her sister's bare waist, and their hands intertwined for a moment. They kissed softly, affectionately, as their hands started to explore each other's face and neck. Where they found a smudge of dirt, or an uneven tuft of hair, they licked and cleaned the other. Yuma pushed Harla's brown hair straight back, and in that moment their bodies were identical -- they were twins. But upon release, it sprang forward with a coarse spikiness of quills her sister's smooth black hair lacked. Yuma giggled.
"Stop it." Harla warned and nipped playfully at her sister's ear. Yuma squealed as her sister's sharp teeth drew a drop of blood. But Harla flicked her tongue over the bite and collected the crimson drop, and her sister's wrath was abated. "You've got grease all over your neck." Harla scowled and proceeded to lick it clean. It was Yuma's favorite spot to have cleaned. She always tilted her head way back and held her breath throughout it. "You're a messy eater." Harla said between long, licking strokes up her sister's neck.
"Can't help it." Yuma purred. "I like the juicy parts."
"You'll get fat." Harla chided and pinched her sister's side. Yuma moaned a complaint. Finished with her sister's neck, Harla glanced back at her mother's blissful, oblivious face as she nursed the human. "She seems to like that a whole lot."
"Mmmhmm." Yuma mumbled as she leaned in to lick clean her sister's chin and neck. Harla sighed delightedly as her skin responded to the attention. Preening wasn't so much a chore now that they were older. In fact it had grown more and more enjoyable in the last year or so. At first their mother said they were becoming women, but didn't explain it any more than that. Then, a few months back, their mother had started to teach them about taking a mate. It wasn't so interesting before when mother took men to their nest, but now that this man was here Harla couldn't stop staring at him -- he was a curiosity. Especially since her mother forbade them both from eating him. It didn't help that he looked tasty too.
A new sensation tingled across her chest, up her neck, and turned into a soft mew from her throat. She turned back to find Yuma preening her breasts. She wanted to protest and scold her for being silly, but for some reason when Yuma's tongue came out again and touched its wet, rough tip across her erect little nub, it sent shivers down her back and her breath escape in a delightful moan.
"It feels good right?" Yuma teased and licked the other one. Harla threw her head back, but stopped whatever sound was about to come out at her throat. "Good like how momma likes it?"
"Oh yes!" Harla hissed quietly, trying not to get them in trouble. Their mother would ignore them for a while during feeding. They had tried to rouse her from it a before before, but she wouldn't have them interrupting. "More please." She gasped and muffled her squeals against her sister's head as another wet lick electrified her nipples. Her hands instinctively came to cradle Yuma's head to her chest, and she started to nuzzle her.
"I'm next, don't forget." Yuma cooed in a quiet voice and teasingly started to lavish her sister's other breast. It was surprisingly pleasurable to the young Harpy to feel what their mother must have felt each night when she fed the human. No wonder she seemed to enter a trance and didn't want to be disturbed.
"Ow! Not so hard!" Yuma growled, as Harla was starting to knead her sister's scalp, and her claws had scratched. It startled her out of her daydreaming, and she recoiled her hands.
"I'm sorry!" she whispered, and attempted to preen the cuts she had made. Yuma was being inconsolable and instead guided Harla's lips to her own chest. Without another word Harla apologized by sending Yuma into short pleasurable spasms, exciting all the same nerves in her pert young breasts. Her tongue swirled around each nipple and she marveled how they grew long and hard. She touched one with her fingers and felt its firmness between them. Touching them was just as enjoyable as preening, by Yuma's soft mewing. Yuma mirrored her curiosity and together they explored each other's sensitivity. She liked it best when something stroked her budding nipples, but Yuma preferred to be
pinched.
"I've seen her do this too," Harla whispered and slid her hand between Yuma's thighs. She found her sister warm and wet between her legs. Yuma's breath caught in her throat when Harla touched the outer lips of her maidenhood.
"More," she breathed. "It feels good." But the more Harla stroked her sister's wet lower lips, the heavier and louder her breathing grew. So Harla kissed her, and muffled the heavy mewing caused by her touch. Her fingers were getting wet, and one slippery, stubby claw accidentally slid up inside Yuma's cunt. The harpy suddenly went rigid, her wings stretched out, and she grabbed both Harla's shoulders for support.
"Careful, don't pull it out," Yuma whimpered, "it feels so good, but it hurts if you scratch. Move it slowly." Harla nodded and slowly moved her finger around inside. Yuma threw her arms around her sister and licked her ear and neck in an attempt to muffle a squeal of passion. "Keep going." She instructed, and Harla obliged. Apparently Harla had discovered something better than preening. Yuma's breathing grew heavier and she lost all focus or concentration. Her hips even started to move against her sister, causing a slight thrusting deep inside her. It wasn't long before something happened and Yuma whimpered and started to shake.