The Nightwind's Woman

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  “Let’s get something clear here, Kerreyder,” she said. “Your mother sent you here to me to blood.”

  That didn’t sound good and it didn’t sound like his mother. He started to shake his head again, to say no again but found he could do neither. The restraint that was wrapped around his body now extended to both his head and his vocal chords.

  “It is time for you to realize your powers and you cannot do that until you thrust your shaft into a woman’s body and you release your seed.” She moved so the peaks of her lush breasts were pressed against his shirt. “It is into my body that will happen.”

  She turned her hand and placed her palm over his erection and molded her fingers around him through the denim. He could feel the heat of her flesh through the material and when she squeezed him, he drew in a long, shuddering breath.

  “I’ve blooded many a young man,” she said. “Millions of them over the eons. I am very good at what I do and when I am finished with you, you will know you have been taken by the best.”

  She was a tall woman—as tall as he—so when she leaned in even more, she had no trouble putting her lips to his ear. Her whisper wove its way through his ear canal directly to his brain then sank like a rock to his groin.

  “I am going to do things to you that you have never dreamed of, pretty boy. When I am finished with you, your cock will be raw but you will be well sated. No other being will ever satisfy you as I will.”

  She caressed him, stroked his cock hard through the jeans then lifted her leg to hook around him. The scent of her sex filled his nostrils and spiked in his blood.

  “Now, let’s take this somewhere more comfortable.”

  Her free arm slid around his waist and she clamped him to her with such force it shocked him. She was far stronger than he could have imagined and the power that sizzled from her body to his made him lightheaded.

  One moment they were in the solarium and the next they were in what he knew must be her boudoir. The room was a bold combination of blood-red drapes and coverlet, shiny black lacquered furniture that looked as though it had been brought in from Chrystallus, and a scarlet and black swirl carpet underfoot. The room smelled of sandalwood.

  The bed was massive—larger, much wider than a king—and the headboard was an intricately carved masterpiece of a dragon crouched beneath the branches of a spreading cypress trees. He had only a moment to take in the breathtaking beauty of the carving before her voice drew him back to her.

  “Lie down.”

  He couldn’t disobey. No matter how hard he tried. His feet moved though his mind was screaming at them not to. He walked to the bed and climbed atop it, stretching out like a sacrificial victim with his arms at his sides and his legs slightly spread. That was no doubt how she wanted him for he was struggling to close in on himself with arms and legs tight to his body.

  “Move over.”

  He did, tears forming in his eyes because he was unable to resist and he hated that he couldn’t.

  “Relax. I’m not going to rape you, Kerrey,” she said with a touch of exasperation in her tone. “Trust me. I don’t need to. You’ll want what I am going to do.”

  Trust was the last thing he felt. He already felt violated and all she’d done was put her hand on the outside of his jeans. The thought of her wrapping her fingers around his cock set him to trembling with impotent anger. His maleness was being debased and that caused such fury inside him it felt as though his blood were boiling. He was surprised smoke wasn’t coming out of his nostrils. The moment she got on the bed and straddled his hips, he thought he might well self-combust.

  She settled her shapely ass directly over his groin then leaned down to snag her hands in his shirt. With a calculating grin on her lovely face and a gleam of sheer wickedness in her green eyes, she ripped open his shirt. The buttons popped, the material tore as she savagely rent the shirt from his chest. The force of her act lifted him from the mattress as the material gave way. Human strength couldn’t accomplish that feat. He had felt the magic as it snaked out through the fabric, all but disintegrating the cotton.

  He stared helplessly up at her as the warm air wafted over his exposed flesh. There was great power within her. It sizzled in the room like summer lightning.

  “My, my, my,” she said with a low growl. Her attention was riveted on his chest. “I like.” Her gaze flicked to his. “I like very much!”

  She put her palms on his pecs and rubbed them over the hair growing there. She ran them down his sides and trailed her fingernails across his belly.

  “Nice. Very nice.”

  Her hands were all over his chest and sides—rubbing, stroking, nails dragging over his stomach even as it quivered beneath her touch. All the while she held his gaze captive and he found himself unable to look away. She scooted back until she was sitting almost over his knees and his cock surged. When her fingers went to the button on the waistband of his jeans, his entire body stiffened of its own accord.

  “Relax,” she cooed. “I’m not going to hurt you.” She winked. “Yet.”

  Flipping the metal button open, she took the pull-tab between her thumb and index finger and began slowly to lower the slider body down through the teeth. She had some help for the thickness of his cock pressing against the tape of the zipper allowed the teeth to part with less resistance. Once the zipper was all the way down, he felt his cock spring free of the fly and tried to close his eyes.

  The lids would not obey. He couldn’t even blink as she stared heatedly into his eyes.

  “Now what do we have here?” she asked, lowering her gaze to his crotch.

  He held his breath for he knew she was about to take hold of him. His cock—traitorous beast that it was—leapt at the thought and seemed to jump right into her palm. Her fingers closed around it and he hissed out a breath through his clenched teeth.

  Her hand was cool, her fingers strong as she slid them down the straining length. With each upward circuit he expected her to touch the very sensitive head where every nerve ending in his body seemed to have settled. But she did not touch him there. She seemed content to tug gently as she ran her hand up and down him until he thought he would go insane if she didn’t touch the head.

  “Eager little boy, aren’t you?” she asked, not looking up at him.

  She was reading his mind and that was humiliating. He tried to shut down his feelings but the harder he tried to control them, the more they seemed to form. He could tell by the secret smile pulling at her lips that she was intercepting each dirty, licentious thought in his brain.

  Or was putting them there.

  “Think what you’d like to do to me,” she said.

  He knew what he’d like to do. He’d like to wrap his hands around her throat and squeeze until her eyes popped out.

  She laughed and her fingers became a brutal clamp around his flesh.

  “Squeeze like this?” she taunted.

  Her hold was painful and it became more so as she tightened it then twisted slightly.

  He groaned. She was hurting him—intentionally so—yet he could do nothing about it. He couldn’t move so he couldn’t buck her off him. He was at the mercy of her hard, cruel clinch.

  But just as quickly as the punishing pain came, it went as she relaxed her grip and gently stroked him.

  “Be careful of your thoughts, Kerrey,” she warned. “Be very careful of your thoughts.”

  She got to her knees, hooked her hands in the waistband of his jeans.

  “Lift that sweet little ass, pretty boy,” she commanded.

  He couldn’t resist her order. His hips hiked up as though attached to marionette strings and as she began to tug the jeans down his hips, he growled.

  She laughed at the warning and continued to work the garment down his legs, walking on her knees to the foot of the bed until she could draw them from his feet.

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about,” she said and her gaze on his cock was almost a living thing. He could feel it all the way thr
ough his balls—tight and aching as they’d never been before.

  Wedging her knees between his ankles, she nudged his legs apart, bent over him with her palms flat on the mattress to either side of his body then moved up between his legs until she was lodged close to his groin. She hovered over him like the predator he believed her to be with her full breasts hanging enticingly above him.

  “You want to taste them, don’t you?” she asked.

  The words came out of him in a strange voice he didn’t recognize as his own.

  “Aye,” he said and the agreement sent a shaft of shame down his throat.

  “You want to lick my nipples.”

  Again that strange, disembodied voice spoke for him.

  “Aye.”

  “Nibble them. Bite them. Suck them deep inside that sweet mouth.”

  Ripples of desire flooded his lower body and his cock jutted toward her, so thick and full it grazed her belly as she hung suspended over him. He could feel a bead of pre-cum oozing onto her flesh.

  “Let me show you what I want to do, pretty boy.”

  The words made him shiver and when she lowered her body to his, slid her chest down his, he gasped for his cock was pinned between them and the friction of her skin rubbing against his as she slithered down him was exquisite torture.

  But it was where she stopped on her downward drag that sent his senses into overload.

  “I want wood,” she whispered. “I love the taste of good hard wood!”

  Her face was directly above his crotch when she took him in hand then wrapped her lips around the head of his throbbing cock.

  Gods how he wished he could speak now! He thought as her mouth enclosed him but she wouldn’t permit that. She was drawing on his flesh, licking him, running the tip of her tongue along the slit and he could do no more than gasp in air. Lying imprisoned by whatever force she had cast around him, he could not move yet he ached to. He wanted to thrust his hips up, push his cock deeper into her mouth. He wanted to grind his ass against the mattress, dig his heels into it to lever it from the bed. None of that was allowed and the immobility was a torment he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.

  Her lips swirled over the head of his cock. She poked her tongue repeatedly into the crease as she kept a tight fist just under the glans. At the moment she placed her other hand under his balls and started to massage him, his heart missed a beat.

  Over and over again she took him just to the brink of release then stopped. Each time he would groan with growing frustration but then she’d started again. Held immobile, unable to prevent her from tormenting him so cruelly, he had no choice but to endure her ministrations until tears were rolling down either temple.

  She withdrew his aching flesh from her lips and held him still. Cocking her head to one side, she watched him for a moment.

  “I know you’ve masturbated many, many times, Kerreyder, but you’ve never fucked or been fucked so you have no idea just how intense a true orgasm can be. Release?” She shrugged. “Aye, you’ve experienced that but not inside the body of a woman whose cunt will milk you even as you spurt.”

  Her words sent shivers of pure lust along his spine and into his cock. He was desperate for relief—painfully so—and would have sobbed had he been able to. Frustration was turning him inside out and need was building to the breaking point.

  “Do you think you’re ready?” she asked. An eyebrow quirked. “Ready to take control?”

  He knew the moment she released the control over his voice for his throat felt as though a blockage had been removed.

  “Unpin me and I’ll fucking show you!” he hissed.

  And then the restraint on his body was gone. He didn’t think. He slammed his hands to her hips, dug his fingers into the soft, pliable flesh and flipped her to her back, throwing a leg over her as he rolled. Grabbing his cock, he probed at her opening several times only because he was in such a hurry to cram himself into her. He wanted to hurt her, to thrust so deep she would scream.

  But the moment he entered her, she lifted her legs, locked them around his hips and crossed her ankles to hold him in place. Her ass came off the bed and she impaled herself deeper onto his thrusting cock. He shoved his hands under her and flexed his fingers into her the flesh of her ass.

  And then went ballistic with lust, driving into her so brutally, so savagely the bed beneath them trembled. The massive headboard thudded loudly against the wall with each snap of his hips. His entire consciousness was centered in his cock and the itch that was flooding it, tightening his balls, making him ache and throb and…

  Need!

  Her legs were cutting into him, keeping him from taking a decent breath. Her heel was rubbing against the crack of his ass with every push of his hips.

  Grunting like a wild animal, he rammed into her as hard and viciously as he could but she seemed to enjoy it. Her arms wrapped around his arms. She sank her teeth into his shoulder. He felt a trickle of blood ease down his chest but that only spurred him harder. His thrusts became more powerful, quicker, slamming into her with wild abandon until the itch began in his balls and spread like a wildfire down his cock.

  The orgasm shook him to the core as it burst from him. The slickness of her cunt, the tightness of it fluttering around him as she squeezed him with her inner muscles made the release so powerful he thought his head—or at the very least his heart—would burst from the force. It went on and on as she milked him—just as she’d told him she would—until the very last shudder was taken from him and he stilled. He trembled violently, threw his head back and made a loud hissing noise that disturbed him. It was the sound a valve made just before the machinery blew asunder.

  He collapsed atop her like a rock with his head and heart pounding, his fevered blood racing cruelly through his veins, his breathing a labored gasp as he strove to drag air into his depleted lungs. Sweat covered him from head to toe and both calves were cramping for he had the soles of his feet plastered tightly to the high footboard. His shoulder throbbed where she had bitten him.

  Her legs were still secured around his waist, her hands roaming over his sweaty back. She was speaking to him in the old language—the language that his mother spoke when she cast her spells. The words wound their way into his ear and traveled along the neural pathways of his brain and he knew she was sowing seeds there but he was too drained, too shattered to care what magic she was weaving around him.

  “I want you again,” he said, not surprised by his words. He was fairly sure she’d planted the notion in his mind.

  “You will always want me, pretty boy,” she whispered in his ear.

  “No I won’t,” he snapped.

  “You will,” she said. “I was your first and you will always remember me.” Her fingernails played across his shoulders. “You may not like me but you will crave me like a starving man yearns for a banquet.”

  “No,” he said as emphatically as he could but he knew he was lying. He would want her despite hating her with every fiber of his being. He would take her against his will. He would let her use him for whatever evil lust she had in mind for he was beginning to discern something strange, exotic and mayhap shameful she wanted to do to his body. The magic she’d whispered in his ear had taken root.

  She hadn’t raped him. That was true. She had seduced him—mayhap forcefully so—but it had not been rape. He almost wished that she had raped him for then he could say he’d had no part in the outcome that had followed. But it had been he who had torn into her with such gleeful wicked intent and he was sure he had hurt her although she certainly hadn’t seemed to mind. There was no doubt in his mind he would hurt her again and she’d enjoy that just as much.

  And she was right about something else.

  His cock was raw but he didn’t care as he moved off her, jerked her up and flung her to her belly, snagging an arm under her waist to hike her ass from the bed and jacked her to his hips. When he entered her this time, he did so with teeth clenched and eyes narrowed.

&n
bsp; This time it was his teeth in her shoulder as he held her still for his thrusts.

  * * * * *

  For over a week he slept in her bed—although if truth was told neither of them did much sleeping. He fucked her on every surface that would hold them and some that hadn’t. Two tables and a dainty divan had broken under the weight of their frenzied lust. He’d taken her in the garden and in the solarium. He’d taken her on the front lawn in full view of her servants—every one of them male—and in nearly every room of the palace. He had ridden her hard in the stable. Both of them had bruises and more than a few abrasions. Teeth marks riddled his shoulders and arms and even his thighs. The bitch was a biter but he didn’t particularly care.

  He did care and got fiercely mad each time she slapped him for she had a heavy hand and seemed to take great delight in leaving her livid palm print on his cheek. He retaliated by pulling her hair, wrapping it around his wrist and yanking her head back almost to the point of snapping her neck. She didn’t care. She liked his rough manhandling. Thrived on it.

  Each time he took her he could feel the power within him growing. It had been released—along with his cum—that first night and had continued to grow exponentially with every time he rammed into her hot cunt.

  She taught him how to use those powers just as she taught him how to use a woman, how to pleasure one and how to keep one so besotted with him he could do no wrong in the bitch’s eyes. He was anxious to put her teachings to use for he was more than ready to conquer the female population beyond the scope of Tine.

  And he was growing tired of her.

  Of her scent. Of her body. Of her clinging arms that held him prisoner long after the glow of the sexual encounter had faded. Of her voice. Of her looks.

  Of everything about her.

  He was ready for the next woman.

  And the next.

  And the one after that.