Maiden

by Aishling Morgan

  Elethrine gave a final long, choking scream as the apple popped from her anus at the very peak of her orgasm. Only then did she realise that both the others had been masturbating too and neither had finished taking her pleasure.

  They used her thoroughly each taking full advantage of her body to enhance her own orgasm. Aisla maintained her grip in Elethrine’s hair, forcing her to lick her anus until her gasps told Elethrine that the maid was coming. Talithea, meanwhile, was using one hand to masturbate and the other to molest Elethrine, with her thumb in the Demoiselle’s aching bottom ring and her hand cupping her tuppenny.

  Held tight and thoroughly used, Elethrine cupped her breasts in her hands and started to rub the nipples, knowing that only a little more stimulation would bring her once more to orgasm. As Talithea’s fingers found her clitty it happened, again making her tense and scream. The three girls came together in mutual ecstasy, inhibitions forgotten in their mutual lust.

  Awash with drink and sex, the three of them cuddled together in the centre of the carpet. Completely isolated and safe from the outside world, they allowed their darkest and dirtiest fantasies to come to the fore, licking and probing every orifice of one another’s bodies until each had come many times and was sore in several places. At some stage they beat Elethrine with a heavy wooden spoon that had been snatched up during their hasty departure. This left her bottom purple with bruises and provided yet another exquisite climax.

  In the morning they awoke cold, sore and with a desperate need for fresh water. The carpet had drifted high and the world lay beneath them, a magnificent panorama of sea and barren wilderness. Directly ahead of them two great volcanoes rose on either side of a narrow straight, a feature which the map identified as the Rieve. To the west of this a tall line of cliffs ran away to the south, their strata exposed like the layers of an elaborate cake. Beyond the cliffs was an apparently endless wasteland of rock and sand. To the east the coastline swept away in a majestic curve of red brown dunes, which they judged to be the seaboard of the Red Parch, or Ara Khum desert. Inland the red wilderness continued to the far horizon, broken only by a jagged line of mountains trailing away to the north east.

  ‘Beautiful,’ Talithea said quietly.

  ‘Beautiful, yet dead,’ Elethrine added.

  ‘I want some water,’ Aisla moaned.

  Consulting the map, they discovered that the sea beyond the Rieve was the Ergan Deep, a mountain girt circle of water shaped as if a pebble had been dropped into mud. The map also showed that they had travelled a great distance, despite the fact that the air on the carpet seemed completely still. Despite her thirst and throbbing head, Elethrine drew courage from this discovery.

  ‘See,’ she declared, pointing at the map, ‘if the wind holds true, another two day’s flight will bring us over the Aeg Roads, and one more to Aegmund, where, with luck, we might bring ourselves down within the principality of Ateron!’

  ‘Where I will be immediately immured in a celibentuary,’ Talithea pointed out.

  ‘Not so!’ Elethrine said enthusiastically. ‘We must be a league in the air and will cross perhaps three hundred leagues of central Aegmund. We are bound to pass over a witch’s spire, where we may land, beg the restoration of your maidenhead and transport to more civilised parts!’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Talithea replied.

  ‘Water,’ Aisla interrupted, ‘below.’

  Elethrine turned to look, finding that they had drifted over the western of the two volcanoes. Far below them, in pockets created by spent fumaroles, water reflected the blue of the sky among fields of grey and black rock. They descended quickly by lying on their bellies and dangling the skins of wine and mead over the side. The crater passed below them, a great bowl of black rock with a broad, steaming lake deep inside. Beyond was a long slope on which they managed to land. On impact with the ground the carpet immediately deactivated and once they had emptied two of the three skins and filled them with clear, fresh water, they once more took to the air. The skin of heavy red wine they kept, sharing an unspoken agreement that the lust filled events of the previous night were worth repeating.

  All that day they drifted high over the Ergan Deep, resting and slowly recovering from the excesses of the night. Dusk found Elethrine lying on her stomach and looking out over the sea to where a mountainous peninsula thrust out for the shore. On its westerly flanks the setting sun showed patches of green, the first vegetation they had seen from the air save yellow grass and straggling thorn bushes along the distance shores.

  Idly, she began to pick at the frayed edge where the corsair’s sword had cut the carpet and her thoughts turned to the pleasures which they might explore that evening. She had been given a carefully constructed perfect indignity - a naked spanking while she licked her maid’s bottom - and by mutual agreement it was now Talithea’s turn to suffer and enjoy a similar fate. How - she wondered - to bring the Princess’s humiliation to the perfect peak that would provide the same earth shaking climaxes which she herself had achieved.

  Short of descending to the ground and staking Talithea out for goblins, it was hard to see how Elethrine’s own experience could be topped. Glancing once more at the peninsula, she wondered if the sparse wood of its slopes harboured goblins, or whether it would be too dry. Of course, if they did stake Talithea out there would be a good chance of her and Aisla being caught too, and then she would be deflowered with a vengeance. Some fat green cock would be rammed into her tuppenny while she was made to suck and pull on others…

  Blushing at the sheer filthiness of her thoughts, she turned her face down and noticed a curious phenomenon. From the slashed edge of the carpet, tiny golden flakes were drifting away, leaving the ruptured fibres like spray blown from a breaking wave top. All day the carpet had shown a tendency to lose height, and twice it had been necessary to adjust the amount of weight that protruded from the sides. With a sudden flash of insight, Elethrine realised that it some way the carpet was loosing its ability to remain aloft and that unless they managed to gain more height they would have difficulty in clearing the approaching peninsula.

  ‘Bring things in!’ she called to her friends.

  Talithea and Aisla, who had been exploring each other’s breasts amid giggles and suggestions for what degradation might appeal to the Princess, looked round in surprise. Elethrine explained hastily and they quickly had the carefully positioned skins pulled in. The carpet rose, but with a notable lack of urgency.

  For the next hour they waited, unable to do more to control their fate. The map showed more sea beyond the peninsula and it became a matter of debate whether to put down there and take their chances with possible goblins and other unknown perils rather than risk the certain fate of landing in the sea. Yet the map also marked a city - Port Ergan - some fifty leagues beyond the peninsula and it seemed at least possible that they might reach it. Finally they agreed to see if they could pass over the ridge of rock that lay directly ahead and then to land hurriedly if they seemed likely to come down in the sea.

  Slowly the carpet lost height, seeming to aim precisely at the ridge. As they approached Elethrine saw movement and the prospect of a goblin’s cock in her virgin tuppenny suddenly became very real and very alarming. Closer inspection revealed only small, shaggy goats and relief flooded through her as they crested the ridge with less than two man heights to spare. Beyond was a glittering expanse of sea with the coast sweeping away to the west and bordered, not by cliffs, but by an expanse of mudflat and marsh. Judging their height and rate of descent, it seemed to Elethrine that they would come down on the land, and hopefully not too far from Port Ergan.

  As they crossed out over the sea once more the carpet began to falter, loosing its ability to remain stable and starting to pitch and yaw alarmingly. It was clearly failing, as was the light. A lurch spilt the knife and one of the remaining apples over the side to tumble to the water far below. Fighting down her panic, Elethrine hung her arms over the edge and ordered Aisla to do the same on the oppos
ite side while Talithea stayed in the exact centre to provide stability. Their descent became more rapid, and Elethrine watched the sun set with unnatural speed as they dipped towards the sea. For a moment it seemed that they would come down in the water, only for a low level current of air to pull them inshore and finally deposit them gently on a great expanse of glutinous brown mud.

  Abandoning the carpet, they made their way to the narrow strip of pebbles that separated mud from marsh. Tired, scared and smeared with muck, they set off to the north, following the curve of the tide line until the last traces of light faded from the sky and they were forced to stop and camp.

  In the morning they washed as best they could in a brackish stream and fashioned skirts and bras from reeds in order to cover Aisla’s total nudity and the ragged remains of the drawers and pantalettes that were the sole remaining pieces of Elethrine’s once magnificent attire.

  By good fortune Port Ergan proved closer than the map suggested and they reached it at noon on the following day. It seemed a prosperous city, with fine stone houses lining the sea front and jetties running out into the sea to form the harbour. Many masts were visible and even the sterncastles of the bigger vessels, giving Elethrine new hope of a safe passage home. Still cautious, she ordered a halt to confer and study the map.

  ‘Dwarven, or perhaps halfling, I suspect,’ Talithea said, peering at the squat, plain architecture of the buildings.

  ‘True,’ Elethrine agreed, ‘and if dwarven we are at least safe from slavery. The map marks these lands as dwarven kingdoms, yet it is not necessarily accurate.’

  ‘Well we cannot stay here,’ Aisla pointed out, ‘and perchance those ships include traders from Opina.’

  ‘Opina is now a thousand leagues to the south,’ Elethrine replied, ‘yet your are right, our best course is to try and find a shipmaster who will allow us to work passage.’

  They approached Port Ergan, filled with both trepidation and hope. As they had suspected, the population proved mainly dwarven, with many halflings and the occasional Hai. Reasoning that a Glass Coast trader might well touch at a port on the coast opposite Mund, the girls identified the crossed swords of Hai on a merchantman’s flag and approached it. The shipmaster was seated at a table in the waist of the ship, enjoying a lunch of pickled fish and yellow wine. He showed only mild surprise at their approach, introduced himself as Yarath and offered bread and drink.

  ‘We seek passage to Mund, and will work if necessary,’ Elethrine stated, ‘although should you be willing to sail to Thieron itself you would find yourself handsomely rewarded.’

  ‘No, no,’ Talithea broke in. ‘Not direct to Thieron.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Elethrine corrected herself, ‘the coast near Thieron.’

  ‘Be it the city or be it the coast,’ Yarath replied. ‘I will not venture there.’

  ‘Why so?’ Elethrine demanded.

  ‘First,’ he answered, ‘there are the Merim Islands that close off the Ergan Deep, each of which is home to a nest of pirates more dreadful than the last. Then there are the Grey Deans, where the Spine mountains break into a thousand islets and half-submerged rocks between Kora and Cypraya. A thousand hulks surround every rock and a hundred skulls each hulk. I do not wish to add the Amaratine - nor myself - to their number. The currents are also ferocious and the tides of such height that a mariner may moor in what he thinks is safety only to wake perched on a pinnacle of rock ten times the height of a man. Finally the area swarms with sea monsters with which I have no desire to become more closely acquainted. If, by some miracle, we win through these hazards, the privateers of the Mundic coast are rumoured to be no less murderous than the Merim pirates, and gigantic to boot.’

  ‘These are our kin,’ Talithea pointed out somewhat frostily, ‘and would grant you passage at a word from me.’

  ‘More like secure you and then loot and fire the Amaratine,’ Yarath replied sceptically, ‘but the point is moot, I will not attempt the Merim pirates nor yet the Grey Deans. My route is simple. I ply between An-Jhorai and Port Ergan, carrying Hai glass the one way, dwarven iron the other. You will find most ships here do the same, although some venture far to the south to the Sepia and Viridian coasts for goods of Opina and the Vendjome Empire. No, I can offer passage to An-Jhorai at the reasonable rate of fifty dwarven weights of iron apiece, or perhaps an equivalent.’

  ‘Might we not work our passage?’ Elethrine suggested.

  ‘You look strong, yet I have no need of spare hands,’ Yarath replied, ‘nor do I want for cooks or seamstresses, while I find that ship’s whores cause more distraction than satisfaction.’

  ‘We thank you then,’ Elethrine said, colouring only slightly at his suggestion that they prostitute themselves - a suggestion that would have filled her with furious outrage only weeks before.

  They left the Amaranth and began to try other ships, but with no success. Many, both dwarven and Hai, were willing to take them to An-Jhorai at a price, but one only offered them work, and that not only as ship’s whores and general dogs-bodies but on a voyage to Anjome, which was worse than useless. Finally it became evident that they would need to earn a minimum of one hundred weights of iron in order to obtain the cheapest passage to An-Jhorai. This infuriated them, as the map showed that the Hai city lay somewhat to the south of east and that the wild southern coast of Aegmund was no further off.

  From An-Jhorai it would be possible to reach the north coast of Hai, with which Talithea was certain at least some trade took place with Mund. Unfortunately, being of royal blood, it was beneath her to have such crass commercial knowledge. With little choice in the matter, they decided to earn their passage money and returned to Yarath for advice, he having been the most loquacious of the shipmasters and mates they had spoken to.

  ‘Two techniques suggest themselves,’ he said when they had explained their needs, ‘and from what I know of Mundic customs, both might be unacceptable to highborn ladies such as yourselves.’

  ‘Aisla is but an artisan,’ Elethrine answered, ‘and Talithea and myself have learnt to place expediency before predilection.’

  ‘Then,’ Yarath continued, ‘you might obtain employment as tavern wenches, stable girls or perhaps seamstresses, all of which earn perhaps three to four weights of iron per day.’

  ‘We do not care to spend so long in Port Ergan,’ Elethrine answered.

  ‘Alternatively,’ he went on, ‘you might make use of your beauty and youth and sell your favours on the streets of Port Ergan. Mouth service would gain perhaps a weight of iron per time, cunt or anus three and five weights respectively - at present rates. There is no shortage of trade along the docks, nor shortage of competition. A week’s work might earn you passage, if you ate sparingly and slept under the moons.’

  ‘Better,’ Elethrine replied, no more horrified at the prospect of sex with sailors and longshoremen than at that of menial work, ‘but still a long time. Is there no quicker way to earn?’

  ‘Are you beaten regularly?’ Yarath queried. ‘I understand that the Mundics make something of an art of flagellation.’

  ‘I am caned when I am naughty,’ Elethrine replied guardedly, ‘and have occasionally suffered more humiliating punishments.’

  ‘In Port Ergan it is considered perverse and forbidden by decree,’ Yarath replied. ‘We Hai enjoy whipping girls before coition and those who have settled here might pay well for a taste of home pleasures.’

  ‘A good idea,’ Elethrine answered, ‘although if I am to be caned I prefer it to be by someone of high degree, perhaps a warrior. Who should we contact?’

  ‘I forego such pleasures when in Port Ergan,’ Yarath stated. ‘The penalties are harsh and the prices high, while in An-Jhorai it is easy to entice a fine plump wench to the pleasures of the whip and at no cost save perhaps the price of a flagon of wine. You are in luck though. Look yonder - the lank haired villain with the face of a hungry polecat. That is Kenion the Pimp, who will certainly help you, though at a price.’

  ‘Wh
at is a pimp?’ Elethrine asked.

  ‘A sort of agent for girls of easy virtue and men who would pay to advantage themselves of such girls,’ Yarath answered.

  ‘Oh,’ Elethrine answered dubiously, ‘Well in any case, we thank you once more, and should you wish service in reward, Aisla here will oblige while Talithea and I speak with this pimp.’

  Aisla giggled at the prospect of sex with the burly Yarath and went below while Elethrine and Talithea hurried to overtake Kenion, who was sauntering slowly away along the quayside. He showed some surprise at their request and was doubtful at first, but after a brief flash of Elethrine’s still bruised buttocks in an alley, he decided that they were genuine. Once satisfied, he offered three alternatives. The first was an innkeeper of Hai origin who Kenion reckoned might be prepared to go as high as thirty weights to cane and fuck all three girls - more if he could bugger them. The second was more tempting still, an offer from an the rich widow of a long dead Hai glass merchant who was prepared to pay high to be able to beat girls as she herself had been punished in her youth. Kenion estimated that sixty weights of iron might not be too much to hope for. Finally there was the best priced offer, which was both bizarre and terrifying. A halfling nymph merchant by the name of Bormontal apparently had a captive troll which he used to keep the lusts of his stock satisfied. Having sold his nymphs in An-Jhorai, he was returning to Ythan, but the troll - deprived of its nightly glut of tight, willing vagina - was becoming fractious. He had told Kenion that he was willing to pay as much as one hundred and fifty weights to any human girl who would satisfy the troll, the bargain also involving a prior whipping to bring her on heat and himself and his staff as audience.

  ‘We must consult,’ Elethrine answered when the pimp had finished explaining the alternatives.

  The thought of indulging in such practises had made her tuppenny moist and left her limbs trembling, yet telling herself that it was for a good cause only partially allayed her shame at the sheer force of her own lust. Indulging in drunken orgies with Aisla and Talithea was one thing, but putting on a deliberate erotic display for an innkeeper or merchant’s wife was quite another, let alone having sex with a great, shambling brute of a troll.