Sword of the Tyrant

by Cebelius

  The water wasn't as hot as the first bath had been but was still quite warm. Despite this, he could feel her nipples under his palms, erect and inviting his touch. He played with her, eventually dropping a hand between her thighs to squeeze her mound. She arched, whined softly, and her head dropped forward as she began to pant.

  Her hips rolled, and after no more than a few moments she leaned forward abruptly, shifting to couch her arms on the far rim of the rub as she presented her ass, tail arched up over her back to signal her readiness.

  She didn't seem inclined to talk, and Yuri found words just as unnecessary as he leaned up, shifted to his knees, and entered her.

  She let out a thin whine as she arched, then looked back at him, her blue eyes needy as she panted.

  The water splashed out of the tub as they moved against one another. Neither cared. Yuri finished quickly inside her. It had been a long time after all. He shuddered, enjoying his orgasm, then kept going. His people had almost no refractory period, and after a moment of surprise, Twisted's tongue lolled happily before she draped herself over the tub's edge and settled in for a nice, long ride.

  She came a little after that, then again before he finished a second time. The fur of her ruff had gone a bit gray, and a lock of fur by one of her ears had turned almost black.

  Twisted's noises got louder, and were not at all what Yuri was used to hearing, but she was quite eloquent in expressing her happiness.

  Eventually she groaned, drooping a bit as she panted, "You're gonna ... fuck me black if you keep this up."

  "Good," Yuri panted. "After a rest, I can start to train you properly."

  "T-train me?" Twisted asked, tightening noticeably around his girth as she did so.

  "Of course."

  Yuri grinned. He didn't slow down, showing all his teeth as she looked back at him with a mixture of pleading and curiosity in her expression.

  He said, "You need to learn the proper use of weapons. It will be quite painful."

  Her eyes widened, then rolled up a bit as he kept moving inside her. "Oh? You, hah ... you promise?"

  "My word."

  He felt her grow tighter as he spoke, and she pushed hard against him as she whined her need. He picked up his pace, and she came quickly, practically howling her pleasure.

  Her bliss ignited his, and his voice joined hers.

  25

  Hunter Gets Captured by the Game

  Najaha reclined in her coils, gazing speculatively at her newest acquisition.

  She had been on Celestine for centuries, roaming when prey ran low in her chosen hunting grounds. She had been in transition when she discovered the tiger-kin, and had thought to amuse herself for a few weeks before moving on.

  Consuming vital essence through the conjugal act was her favorite way to feed, and she had been enjoying her temporary harem without much thought toward defending herself from legitimate threats. The mountains simply weren't home to anyone who could be a danger, or so she'd thought.

  She had certainly never expected a human — of all things — to show up trying to be a hero. It was marvelous. Now she had a stable of powerful servants and a template to play with. She would take the gift he gave, use him and the rest of the men up, then perhaps make dedicated slaves out of the nightmare and the oni. Both would serve well. The rakshasa she would consume. Such creatures were too slippery, and while her mind was clouded now, it might not always be so. The nightmare and the oni she confidently believed she could keep under her influence indefinitely.

  Yet she hesitated to claim her prize.

  She had not recognized the language he had used to cast his spell, and though she sensed her subjugation of him was complete, he had only been able to tell her that the spell he had cast convinced his familiar — he'd called it his 'wife' — to leave his body.

  Najaha did not like devils, but before she'd been able to burn the little thing it had fled, escaping the edge of her distortion. As small as it was, the little blob would die of hunger in a few days, or perhaps it would feast upon the tiger-kin females and survive a few more weeks. Either way, it wasn't worth chasing.

  Her thoughts returned to the human, and the puzzle he presented. He radiated power. Her spell couldn't tell her if that was because he had many bonds already, or if there was something else.

  She had been prepared for an assault when he'd begun casting, confident in her defenses, but he had only expended all his power and passed out. No attack, no attempt at defense either, from what she could see.

  His emotions were open, and she sensed only love from him. Love, and a lingering despair. It was exactly what she expected, but she had not grown ancient and powerful by being foolish.

  So Najaha sat pensively in her coils, frowning as she considered the human where he lay on the plush furs of her bower. He was a prime specimen, that much was certain. His physique was a map of physical perfection under flesh that bore many, many scars.

  It was clear he was a fighter, but he had given up without even testing her might. Not the act of a hero. Rather, that more than anything bid her to be cautious.

  She slid forward, reached out, and caressed his cheek.

  His gray-green eyes opened, focused on her, and she considered his face.

  A broken nose set in rugged features with a blaze of scar tissue over his eyes. Close-cropped black hair and the shadow of a beard. He was not classically handsome, but there was an appeal to the intensity in his gaze, or there had been, before her enchantment had dulled its power. The eyes looking up at her now were listless, despite the obvious love in his expression.

  She crooned to him, "My love. If you wanted to hurt me, how would you?"

  "I ... can't," he said, hesitating as he considered. "You're too fast."

  "What if ... I were asleeb?"

  His brows drew down as he looked at her, and it was clear that the very thought of hurting her hurt him. At length, he said, "I ... suppose I could cut your throat, maybe break your neck. I'm very strong."

  "Cut my throat? How?" she asked.

  She watched as he presented his hand and flexed it. Claws slid into view.

  "Humans have claws?" she asked.

  He shook his head and said, "A bond gift. I'm suppressing my size too."

  "Your size?"

  "Yeah. I'm ... pretty much a giant."

  She reared back and folded her upper set of arms as she waved at him with one of her middle hands. "Show me."

  He got off the furs, took off his clothing, and spoke in his own language. It was a brief phrase, and his size increased in all dimensions. When he stabilized, he was fifteen feet tall, and despite herself Najaha smiled.

  One thing that she had always regretted about her feeding was that the male component lacked. Najaha was large, and she reveled in her size, but most mortals simply didn't have enough girth, much less length, to satisfy her — at least not physically.

  She slithered toward him, began to wrap him up in her coils as she asked, "Terrence ... you certain you not harm me? I ... desire you."

  His smile was faint as he said, "I'm in no position to stop you. I don't want to. You're my dream come true."

  Her many hands caressed him as she wrapped around him a second, then a third time, her body gliding past itself, around him, stimulating his bare flesh. She could feel his arousal swelling as she cupped his cheeks with her upper hands and slid her tongue into his mouth.

  Najaha felt his hands play over her flesh, just above where her scales gave way, and she smiled at the sensual feel of his fingers. She kept a constant watch on his emotions, felt the lust rising in him just as its physical manifestation pressed ever more insistently between her coils. She wrapped him all the way to his abdomen now, and his increased size made him perfect for her. She loved the feel of being coiled around a male, of being in complete control.

  She briefly considered keeping him for a while, playing with him in a purely physical way as she used the others to sate her need for life energies, but disca
rded the thought. She longed for the vitality she could sense in him. It was so powerful, far beyond any mortal on Celestine. This world had no truly powerful males — the Powers had seen to that — but Terrence Mack was here, now, and she would not miss the chance to enjoy him fully.

  "You pull my legs any closer together and I'll fall over," he said, his voice easy and teasing.

  "Yes. You will."

  She watched his lips twist into an amused smile. He wrapped his arms around her waist and turned into her as he fell, landing atop her on the furs of her bower.

  She pressed his chest back with her upper two hands as her middle pair caught his sides while her lower wrapped themselves around his girth, stroking slowly. She arched an eyebrow at him, still carefully examining his emotions, his feelings. There wasn't a submissive bone in his body, but he had no truly aggressive urges toward her. He simply didn't want to be on the bottom. Her smile was faintly mocking as she asked, "You think because I below you that I not lead here?"

  "Maybe not, but you should allow a man his illusions," he said with a grin, one of his hands resting on her shoulder as his other found the clasp between the cups of her brassiere and twisted it neatly open. They fell apart, and he nudged first one, then the other off, his gray-green eyes on hers.

  "Ohh, I do," she said, quietly amused as she allowed him to cup one of her breasts, bend to kiss its rising slope. "I imagine your females taught you many skills?"

  He chuckled, his eyes crinkling a bit at the corners with pleasure as she tossed aside her silks with her middle hands while guiding him inside her with the lower pair. All the while, she continued to support his body with her upper hands in a casual but not unintentional display of strength. As she pulled him in, he said, "Actually, this ride came fully equipped."

  "Your language strange, but I take your meaning. Now though, all that you must do is be. I handle you as I like."

  "Whatever will make you happy, Najaha," he said, relaxing into her many-armed embrace. "You feel amazing, wrapped around me like this. You're so close."

  "I closer to you than any other woman," she whispered in his ear, twisting to effortlessly turn and place him on his belly. She held his legs and lower body tight in her coils, flexing slowly, languidly, enjoying the way he filled her. It had been many long years since she'd had a lover with the size to physically satisfy, and she knew that while she would take his vitality, she would make this last. She might be a demon, but she was also a serpent, and serpents did not rush their couplings.

  "Not quite," he said wryly, "but very close."

  She sensed the turn of his emotions, knew he was thinking of one of his harem. She felt his wonderment that he had ever considered that other female worthy, and was darkly satisfied.

  Her seduction was irresistible. No one who could love could not be coaxed to love her best. Love was her greatest weapon. She felt nothing like it herself, considered all those who had loved her and been consumed over many centuries of life to be prey. Like all her kind, she lived only to please herself. The one in her coils now was special, but not because she felt any attachment to him. No, he was special because his power would make her own even greater. Her magic, her strength, would increase. He was simply a tool that would pleasure her, feed her, and make her even more able to carry on in the endless task of slaking her many thirsts.

  "Once you bond with me, I mighty enough to challenge the Bowers," she crooned, fingers playing over his scalp as she leaned up to one side of him, her lower and middle hands digging into his back, massaging and relaxing him while her coils pulsed, flexing rhythmically as she pleasured herself with his shaft. "This world will be even more my toy to blay with."

  Terrence was now resting his head on his folded hands, eyes closed as he bathed in the pleasure she showered on his body. His words were soft, so much so that she almost missed them.

  "Until Thomas destroys it ... sure."

  "The one they call 'Dust Lord?' Psh." Najaha shook her head. "Him I handle anytime. My seduction dominates all."

  His smile was easy, but distant. She sensed that he didn't believe her, but that he was too much in the moment to bother correcting her. The realization irritated Najaha, and her coils tightened a little bit more than necessary. His face showed his momentary discomfort, but still he did not complain. She knew she could crush him and he would only murmur his hopes for her: love did such things. That he could think Thomas would be any different bothered her.

  She laid down over his back, her lower arms slipping under to hug his belly while her middle pair wrapped his chest. She slid one hand into his hair, caressing as her other lifted his face to hers. He met her gaze placidly, obviously still deriving pleasure from their union. His hips flexed against her now whenever she tightened as he found and cooperated with her rhythm. His eyes bore the misty look of the love that soaked his mind, and his smile was lazy with happiness.

  "You fought him, yes?" she asked.

  "Yes."

  "Why boser? Celestine vast. No need to seek him. He only a man ... after all. Men inherently weak."

  "He's wrong about this world, and he's killing innocent people." His voice was distant, regretful. She could tell that though he had given up on his mission, its one-time importance to him still had some hold over him. "Good people are suffering because of him ... that's not Christian. Not what we were taught."

  "We?" she asked. "You share this man's religion?"

  "Kinda. Yeah."

  "Then you both wrong. Intelligence and innocence mutually exclusive."

  He shut his eyes and nodded, saying nothing.

  "If you agree, why fight?"

  "Because ... I believe some sins can be forgiven. Should be forgiven."

  Najaha tightened her coils a bit, held him that way as she leaned back a bit, watching him bemusedly.

  "Why cry?" she asked.

  "Because I gave up," he whispered. "Peter wouldn't take me now. Giving in to you, letting you kill these people has damned me."

  "Love very bowerful, yes?" she said, playfully mocking his weakness.

  His eyes tightly shut, he nodded again and laid his head down. "I love you, Najaha, but you've destroyed me."

  She ruffled his hair, massaged his shoulders, began rhythmically flexing again. "I know. Glory in it. All you have now, I give to you."

  "I will."

  "All this conviction, and you still cannot resist me. You see? One day, Thomas lay where you are. He will suffer your fate."

  "Will you promise me?" he asked.

  "Of course," she murmured, nipping at his ear. "Bromises easy to make."

  "Not to keep," he murmured.

  "Keebing another matter," she easily agreed. "Enough talk now."

  She spent another hour and more playing with him, bringing him to the edge and backing off, controlling his pleasure as she saw just how close she could get him without allowing him a final release.

  He pleaded with her, eventually begged her to let him finish. When she finally did, she felt his bliss wash into her with a force that was wholly unexpected.

  She began to clench, writhing as she gripped him with all six arms. Her orgasm was as unexpected as it was powerful, and she shuddered and moaned as she never had. The feeling that suffused her was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It went beyond pleasure, beyond physical bliss.

  As she finally eased her hold on him, leaned back far enough to see his face, she realized what it was.

  Love.

  She loved him with every fiber of her being. It was impossible, but there it was. Her power had been turned against her. She knew it, understood in that instant what he must have done, what his spell had to have been.

  "You ... tricked me," she breathed. There was no anger in her tone, only disbelief. Amazement ... and though she was ashamed to recognize it, gratitude.

  "Yes. I did. Let me go."

  She did. She couldn't deny him such a simple request. She turned onto her back, spread all six arms wide against the furs, ba
ring her naked body to him as he leaned up, staring into the middle distance.

  "Free everyone," he said quietly. "You have me."

  "Of course. Anything for you ... my love."

  It was only a few moments before Terrence Mack's women charged into the bower. Najaha watched them dispassionately. She knew she was in danger, but she was with her love. Whatever he decided, she would put her trust in him.

  "What did you do?" the rakshasa asked before wrinkling her nose with distaste. "Aside from the obvious."

  "I turned her magic back on her. She feels for me now what we all felt for her. Has she released you completely?"

  "I want to kill her," the oni growled. "and eat her. Can I?"

  "I'll take that as a yes, and no," Terrence said, glancing back at Najaha. She winced inwardly at the cold look in his eyes, reached out to him with her three closest hands hesitantly, only to drop them limply as he turned away.

  "See the men safely back to the village. Prada will be out there somewhere. Send her to me here."

  "Are you sure?" the dryad asked.

  He nodded. "I'm sure. I know that she's feeling what I felt. She can't harm me, can't defy me. She doesn't even want to. She's mine."

  Hearing him say that sent a thrill through Najaha, one that she knew was false. She didn't care. It felt soooo good. Better than anything. She was his. He was the center of her world now. "Yes. I belong to you."

  "One of us should stay," the dryad insisted.

  "Sure," Terrence said, looking at her. "That'd be good, in fact."

  The dryad smiled and stepped up to him. She stretched out her arms, and he gathered her up into his lap. She looked like a child as he cradled her to him, and Najaha wished it were her.

  "What you do with me?" she asked once the others had gone.

  "I don't know," he said. He looked about to say more, then shook his head and fell silent.

  The dryad clutched at him, held him close as she murmured, "You did it. You freed them all. Freed us all."

  "Not all."

  He glanced at Najaha and her heart quickened in her chest as he asked, "How many of the men that you stole died?"