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A Free Man's Passion

By: BlueSwede



It was 147 years since Collapse, that cataclysmic year when the world’s economy and governments broke down. No one was left who had lived through those times when, almost overnight, money became worthless, treaties and the laws which dictated how a society functions were rendered useless. 

Manufacturing and technology ground to a halt. Oil refineries ceased to work, electric power plants shut down, and the world quickly plunged into darkness. A new world grew from the debris of the old, one where wealth was measured in tradable, useful items: food, weapons, horses, and slaves. Power to rule lay in the hands of those who ceased it, and hold onto it by force. And morality, if it every truly existed, became a casualty as well.

Sex existed for two purposes only: procreation and the enjoyment of the powerful. The poor and disenfranchised, scattered in a Diaspora as they sought to escape enslavement, clung to the old ways of families and monogamy, their surest hope of security. Who could you trust to protect you, they must have reasoned, besides your spouse and offspring? But families were routinely hunted down, broken apart and sold by those who had managed to scrape together larger holdings of land…land that was only profitable if it could be farmed by slaves. 

And for the powerful, sex slaves were little more than tools, like a hammer or a plow. They served a purpose to the ruling class: they provided pleasure and they provided offspring. The powerful had abandoned the laws of monogamy. Rulers seldom mated with one another. Instead, in an effort to strengthen the gene pool of the ruling class, it’s females were ritualistically mated with slaves who were chosen for their beneficial traits. Sex, for them, was a pleasurable reward in part, but was above all else a captive breeding program. Humans were bred to increase slave holdings and to keep the ruling class from suffering the effects of incestuous inbreeding.

It was into this society that Freeman Jarod was born.

Waking from the blow that had rendered him unconscious, Jarod found himself chained to a post, his arms manacled to either side of a foot-thick pole which was driven into the ground in the center of an enclosed livestock stall. His right temple ached mightily where the bolo weapon had struck him the night before. He had been brought down by the slavers, a trade guild of sorts who trapped and sold the few remaining Freemen who remained. Jarod had tried to escape with his wife and son from the slavers…had even succeeded in killing three of their hunting dogs…but in the end the family was captured. Jarod’s wife, an olive-skinned Andosian, was considered undesirable in the slave trade. Their son, being of mixed-race, would also bring a small price on the auction block. Both were raped by the slavers, then put to death…all of it before Jarod’s eyes.

Jarod heard voices coming toward his stall, the large woman slaver that he had heard that morning, ordering workers around in preparation for the day’s auction. The other voices were those of another woman and her daughter. He overheard them asking questions of the slaver and the slave in another stall down the aisle. Gentry, Jarod thought to himself in a mocking air. A mother and daughter out on a shopping trip. As they appeared in the doorway of his stall, Jarod’s suspicions were proved correct. The slaver, a large sweaty woman, was delivering her sales pitch to the mother. The daughter, whom Jarod judged to be perhaps 18, was silent.

"Now this one," the slaver bellowed, "came in just last night. You don’t see many specimens like him these days. Look at the muscle tone and his teeth. Handsome I’nt he? A prime piece of manflesh."

The mother looked up and down Jarod’s naked body.

"What race," she asked the slaver. "Where was he captured?"

"Why, look for yourself," the slaver exclaimed in mock amazement, "Blonde hair and those pale blue eyes. He’s an Arian, no doubt about it. Captured in New Michigan, he was. Viking blood I’d say."

"Yes, well, maybe," the mother spoke, her gaze fixed on Jarod’s crotch, "but he’s dark haired below, and his beard is dark as well. He’s likely mixed, I’d say. Anglais or Frankish."

The trio entered the stall, walking toward Jarod. The daughter separated herself from her mother and walked around to his right side, studying his physique with obvious interest.

"You there," the mother spoke, looking with cool green eyes into Jarod’s, "what is your name?"

Jarod spoke not at all at first, letting the cold anger in his eyes speak for him.

"My name is Legion," he said finally. "and you will never be rid of me. For every one of my kind you enslave, a hundred more will rise up. We will band together and…"

A swift blow to the temple from the ham-fisted slaver silenced Jarod. The mother smiled. She spoke to the slaver, as if she now had a bargaining chip.

"Yes, well, he’s a fine specimen physically, but he’s obviously aggressive. He’ll never do."

"Aggression in a worker, now that is undesirable, but Madam, aggression is a good trait for ruler stock," the slaver said gently, "and we can make him gentle if that is to your liking. Just lobe him, little nip on the frontals, and he’ll be gentle as a puppy. And it won’t affect the genetics at all."

The mother came closer, and Jarod looked her over. She was tall for a woman, even for a Ruler, and her long red hair cascaded in curls past her shoulders. Her ample breasts were supported in a silver mesh halter top, and below her jewel-encrusted navel was a white silk loin cloth -- rectangular panels that reached almost to the ground hanging from a large silver belt that rested on her hips. She reached out a long, painted fingernail and drew it down his cheek and upper chest. She spoke to the slaver, but her eyes remained fixed on Jarod’s own.

"Let’s see him at attention," she said, finally turning away from him and walking back toward the slaver. The slaver dipped her had into a leather bag on her belt and pulled it out with her fingers slick with a shiny rosin of some kind. She walked hastily up to Jarod and, without hesitation, began stroking his cock vigorously in her huge, callused hand. She leaned again him, whispering into Jarod’s ear.

"If you know what’s good for you," she said, her rank breath repulsing Jarod, who tried to turn away from her, "you’ll show these women what they want. A concubine, that’s as fine a life as a slave like you could ask for."

Jarod was sickened by the slaver’s unbathed smell and the weight of her leather-clad flesh pressing against him, but he couldn’t help his natural reaction to her rapid jerking of his cock. His erection grew. He turned away from the slaver, ashamed he could not will himself to remain flaccid. And as he turned away, his eyes met the young daughter’s. The daughter stared in wide-eyed wonder as his growing cock emerged from the top of the slaver’s fist. Her blonde hair was plaited in a long braid that ran down her back to slender waist. 

Her eyes, green like her mother’s, stared hungrily at the now fully erect cock. Her hands went to her own face, then slowly trailed down her neck to rest on her heaving breasts. She began to play with them, unconcerned with the presence of the others in the stall. Jarod found his own breathing increase as well. This young woman’s arousal succeeded in arousing him as well. Eventually, the slaver stood back, letting the other women admire his shining, swollen manhood.

"Have you fathered any children, slave?" the mother asked. She obviously wanted to know if he were fertile. Jarod thought of his son, now dead at the hands of these slavers, and of his beautiful wife, who bore him this son.

"No," he said. Perhaps if they thought he was infertile, they would not buy him.

"That’s a lie!" the slaver yelled at him. "He was caught with a woman and small child, Madam."

"I was not the father," Jarod lied. "She never got pregnant by me, so we bred her to another."

The mother smiled, seemingly pleased that the slave could come up with a believable lie so quickly. He was intelligent, but she didn’t believe the story.

"A motility test will verify this." se said, nonplused.

The daughter drew closer to her mother, with an eagerness in her eyes. "Mother, may I sample him?" she said excitedly.

"You may not fuck him yet," the mother told her. "You’re 18 now, but your first time must be at the ceremony."

"Then, may I… taste him?" she replied.

The mother smiled at her daughter. "Yes, I suppose so. Save the cum for the microscope though. Ursula, would you be so good as to fetch a scope?"

"Right away Madam," the slaver responded.

"Well," the mother replied, "perhaps not right away."

The slaver smiled, perhaps I’ll take my break now," she said with a smirk, as if the sale were now assured. "I’ll be back with a scope in a while."

The two woman, mother and daughter, came closer. Jarod, still chained with his back to the post, struggled in the impossible task to free himself. The daughter stepped closer, and he could smell the lilac and sandalwood of her hair oil. She reached forward and gently took his stiff shaft in her hand.

"You are very handsome, slave," the girl spoke softly. " I hope you are sweet to the taste. I would love to take you home."

The girl then unfastened the clasps at her shoulders that held her robes in place. She lowered the robes, revealing first her firm, girlish breasts, not yet filled out to the fullness of womanhood. She lowered the robes further still revealing her naked body…and the soft blond tufts of hair that were trimmed above the soft folds of her pussy lips. She stepped out of the robes and handed them to her mother, who hung them on a peg on the side of the stall.

The daughter put her arms against Jarod’s sides, placing her palms under his shoulder blades, and pressed her naked flesh against his well-muscled body. She parted her legs and mounted one of his shackled legs, grinding her sex on his thigh. He could feel the moistness of her as she drover herself toward a climax. 

Against his will, Jarod felt a tightening in his groin that signaled his own impending orgasm. The daughter’s right hand left his shoulder blade and sought out his pulsing cock. She withdrew herself from his leg and kneeled before him, clutching his cock in her hands and rubbing it between her heaving breasts. She grabbed his ass in her hands, digging her nails into them urgently, yet not painfully…and then moved her chest up and down, his swollen manhood cradled between the firm globes that were her breasts. Jarod looked away from the girl writhing against his groin, trying not to think about it, trying to disconnect from the ordeal. 

These were the people ultimately responsible for the death of his wife and son, he reasoned. But reason was to no avail. He looked at the mother. How could she stand there and watch her daughter do this? Had she no shame, he thought. Then, as if in answer to his unspoken question, she raised her own hands behind her neck and unfastened the chain-mail halter top she wore, letting it fall and expose her own full, round breasts. Her hands sought out her own nipples and she began to roll them between her fingers. They stood up as she teased them, her gaze never leaving the sex act her daughter was performing on the slave chained before her.

Then, slowly one of her hands descended to her bare hip and then slipped beneath the folds of her loincloth.

"Time to taste him, dear," the mother said.

The girl pulled reluctantly away from the slave, then took his shaft once more, this time in both hands, and lowered her mouth to it. Jarod felt the wet lips and tongue of the girl kissing and licking the head of his cock. She licked slowly up and down the shaft, then swallowed the head and half the shaft as she began bobbing her head in a steady pace. She grunted hungrily, taking in more and more of his turgid manhood, lapping with her tongue on the bulging blue vein on its underside.

Jarod closed his eyes and wept, thinking only of his wife, trying to escape mentally if he could not physically, from the act being perpetrated on his body. But as he again opened his eyes, he saw the mother, her loincloth now discarded, furiously plunging her middle finger into her own enflamed cunt with one hand, rubbing her auburn haired pubic mound with the other.

Jarod could resist no more. He felt the surge of his jizm jettisoned into the mouth of the girl. She seemed almost surprised, as she brought her fingers up to her mouth to try to catch the dripping cum that escaped her lips. She stood up and walked the stall doorway, where there was a glass jar on a shelf. She spit the contents of her mouth into the jar, and then licked her fingers wantonly.

"He’s good Mother," she said. "Salty-sweet, like father."

"Now, let’s see about stamina and size." The mother replied, moving toward Jarod quickly.

The mother ran her hands over his torso, then reached between his legs and grabbed his nut sack, squeezing it gently and pulling on it. "You haven’t lost that erection yet, have you slave? It’s Mother’s turn now."

She encircled Jarod’s cock at the base and squeezed it tightly, forcing the blood into the erection and bringing it back to full size ­ nearly purple and rock hard.

"That’s a good slave," she said, taking the staff in both hands and guiding the head to her already moist cunt. She rubbed the hardened head against her own swollen clit, eventually leaning forward, spread-eagled against his body, rubbing her whole body against him and guiding the cock into her eager pussy.

After a minute of such attentions, the woman began shouting obscenities and animalistic noises of ecstasy.

"Ohhhhh, oh fuck, oh dammit, yes, fuck me, fuck me, shit, yes, YES, ugh uhhhh, Ahhhhh!"

She pressed herself ever harder against Jarod, spasming wildly and then freezing dead still for a moment. All the while, the daughter watched the mother impaling herself on the slave’s rod. And as she watched, she masturbated furiously.

"Mother!" the girl exclaimed. "I want him in my ass, please mother. I need it now!"

The mother pulled off Jarod and beckoned her daughter forward. The girl turned around, exposing her glorious taut young ass to him. She came back toward him, and the mother took his cock in hand and guided it into the girl’s asshole."

"That’s it, dear," she said, "Not the pussy dear, not until the ceremony. All right, now push!"

Jarod felt his cock penetrate the tight young asshole, and the girl, already in a frenzy from her masturbation, forced her firm ass down over his cock. She moaned with the pleasure of feeling his enormous rod filling her ass. She squirmed and rocked on the rigid shaft, and Jarod, unable to resist any longer, began to pump in response. Matching her thrust for thrust he drove himself deep into her, grunting and growling in pent-up aggression. The mother came forward again, reaching down and stroking her daughters pussy with her finger. Without pulling her hand away from her daughter’s pussy, she leaned in toward Jarod, licking his earlobe and whispering in his ear, "Was your woman this good, slave? I think not."

The mother pressed her cunt against Jarod’s hand, still manacled to the side of the post, and Jarod began to thrust his fingers into her dripping box. In moments, all three of them screamed out in a circle of orgasmic glory…Jarod casting his seed into the daughter’s tight asshole, the mother’s cunt splayed on his hand while she simultaneously masturbated her own daughter.

For a moment, no one moved or spoke. Then, the two women pulled away and dressed. Jarod felt his member go flaccid as the slaver returned with the remnants of an old microscope. She took the jar from the shelf, prepared a slide of Jarod’s first ejaculate, looked in and grinned with satisfaction. She then held the scope up for the mother to see.

"No problems her, missy," she winked at the girl. "He’ll give you plenty of fine heirs."

The mother looked at the swarming sperm in the scope.

"Will trade you five oxen and 600 bushels of corn," the mother said. "and not a kernel more. He’s a passing specimen, but he has no pedigree, and if he’s pure Viking I’m a Portugreek harlot!"

The slaver considered a response, thought better of it, and accepted the bid.

"Of course," the slaver said, "that frontal lobe cut will cost you extra. I’ve got expenses you know."

"The frontal…" the mother started to say.

"Won’t be necessary," Jarod said evenly.

The woman looked into at the slave, searching his eyes for deception. "Legion?" the woman addressed the slave, coming close enough to talk privately, out of the earshot of the slaver.

"Madam," he said softly. "If our tryst was this good with my hands and feet chained, imagine what I could do for the both of you in a more unrestrained setting. But you know as well as I, performance is weakened by the lobe cut."

"You rather enjoyed that, didn’t you?" she said quietly to Jarod. Then "We’ll take him as is," she said to the slaver.

It was a mistake, Jarod thought, one she would live only long enough to regret. When the chance arose, he would slay her, and the daughter too, to regain his freedom, and to avenge his family. He would serve their pleasure for a time, but the girl would never bear his child. His offspring would not, could not, be raised in such a family. A time would come, he thought, when their guard is down, and he would seize the moment.

A Free Man's Passion Ch. 02



(This is the second installment of "A Free Man's Passion" which was submitted a long time ago. I suggest you read or re-read it before reading this sequel.)

Having completed the transaction with the slaver, the mother turned to Freeman Jarod again, addressing him, he thought, with less of the cold authority she had displayed before their sexual encounter. Perhaps, Jarod thought, there was more to this woman than he had originally thought.

"Legion, we have chosen you to fulfill a great purpose in the House of Keera-See. You are not merely a slave to us." Jarod tried to read the expression of her face, seeing in it a mixture of pride, resoluteness and, yes, lust. 

"I am now your mistress, Loran. You will be ruled in all things by me," she said firmly, then smiling more softly. "But you will find I am a benevolent mistress. I reward my slaves for their obedience…reward them with pleasure." Her green eyes flashed as she gazed into his own steel blue eyes. 

"My daughter is Nola. She is heir to the House of Keera-See, and you are to be her concubine. You will share her bed and provide her with the seed for a new generation."

Jarod looked at the young girl, now once again clothed. She had unbraided her long blonde hair and was combing it out with her slender fingers. The moist sweat of their recent sexual encounter still glistened on her fair skin. Jarod felt his manhood begin to stir once more, and he looked away from her to still his growing lust.

"My manservant will come to you soon to escort you to our caravan," Loran said. "He will provide you with clothes and instruct you in your duties." With this Loran left the stall, not looking back. Nola, on the other hand, glanced over her shoulder at Jarod the entire time she exited the stall, at one point giddily bumping into the gatepost. 

Within the hour, a tall, well-muscled man with a shaved head appeared at the stall, carrying a pair of calfskin leggings and burgundy waistcoat, which he handed to Jarod after the slaver unshackled him.

"I am Drossk," he said in a deep husky voice. "I am to instruct you in the duties of a concubine to the House of Keera-See. For now, it is enough that you come with me to join the caravan, for we ride out before the setting sun."

"Drossk…that's a Norlander name," Jarod said. "Are you, I mean were you, a New Michigander?" Jarod suspected that Drossk was in fact a former Freeman, seized in the slave trade as he had been, though likely decades before.

"That life is past," Drossk said. "Let the dead bury the dead." Obviously, Jarod thought, Drossk had lost the will to be free of these people. He, at any rate, would never submit to that fate.

After the better part of a day's ride, the caravan set up camp for the night, and Jarod was given a private tent and four female attendants to see to his needs. They stripped him, bathed him, shaved off his beard, and rubbed him down with oils and jasmine. At first, the cleansing seemed perfunctory; he was, after all, injured in his capture, and aside from a bucket of water thrown at him at the stockyard, he had received no medical or hygienic attention. Now, these women were putting salve on his wounds and tenderly removing the blood and grime of the past several days. But slowly, the attentions evolved into something more carnal, as one and then another of the woman began massaging his stomach and thighs with warm oil, eventually cradling and caressing his scrotum and shaft with oiled hands. Soon all four women were topless and sliding their breasts over his oily torso and rigid cock. 

With skilled, silken hands and moist mouths, they drove him to the brink of climax, only to back off at precisely the necessary moment. Again and again they urged him toward orgasm and then brought him back from the point of no return.

Jarod was beside himself with frustration from the ordeal. One of the women, nuzzling at his neck, explained that this procedure was known as "priming the pump." It increased the potency and quantity of his fluids for his duties to the House.

"We are forbidden from taking you to orgasm," she cooed. "That is the state of ecstasy, Kulan, where flesh and spirit ascend to a higher plain. You are only to achieve Kulan with the Mistress or her daughter."

She presented her full breast to his mouth, and Jarod sucked at it lustfully. She glided first one and then the other nipple across his mouth and face, painting circles and arcs of saliva and massage oil on his cheeks and eyelids. Another of the women who had been massaging his feet drew his toes up under her skirt and worked Jarod's toes between her pussy lips. The other two women slid their lips and tongues up and down either side of his manhood, occasionally trading off the opportunity to envelop the knob and suck at it. Not only was Jarod aroused to near bursting, but the women were frenzied as well, and not being able to satisfy themselves with Jarod, they began to kiss and touch each other. To slake their lust, they soon were completely disrobed and plowing their tongues deeply into each other's cunts. All four licked and probed one another in a tangled knot of writhing flesh, building their efforts in intensity until first one and then all screamed out in ecstasy, then collapsed with panting breaths. 

It began to dawn on Jarod that sex was not just a recreational activity for this power elite, nor was it merely used to procreate. Sexual ritual was evidently part and parcel of their religious beliefs. He was surprised by this, having generally thought of the See (landholders of the South) as godless practitioners of sexual depravity. Evidently, there was much he had yet to learn of this culture.

Drossk entered the tent carrying a large tray of food, which he placed on the fur-covered floor. The women dressed and slipped a robe over Jarod's muscular shoulders before retreating. Two more male servants entered as the women left, carrying a sling-backed chair of a sort which Jarod had never seen. Part hammock and part tripod, the chair was fashioned from wooden rods from which were slung soft cloth strips from its headrest to the armrests and seat.

"It is called the Throne," Drossk explained, seeing the curiosity in Jarod's face. "The Mistress will explain it's use to you." Drossk beckoned Jarod to the food, reclining on one side of the platter and gesturing for Jarod to join him on the other side of the tray. "Eat," Drossk said. "You will need your strength."

"Drossk, what are you to these people?" Jarod questioned, as he seated himself and began eating the fruits and cheeses on the tray. "You are a Norlander, or were, as I am. Don't you wish to be a free man again?"

Drossk looked into Jarod's questioning eyes. "I did at first. I was taken by the slavers when I had only seen 20 summers. I was taken to be concubine for Loran, and as you can see, she has ways of bewitching the senses of a man. I have neither the will or the strength to leave. And then there was the child."

Suddenly it dawned on Jarod who "the child" was: the girl, Nola, with her blonde hair and pale skin…

"She is your daughter…Nola?" Jarod asked, more as a statement than a question.

"She is Daughter of Loran, Mistress of the House of Keera-See," he said blankly, staring away from Jarod, at nothing in particular. "But, yes, of my seed." 

"I take it Loran doesn't think of you as a father to her daughter," Jarod said. How sad, he thought, that this strapping man had been reduced to sexual surrogacy, a once mighty Viking.

"Loran has a husband, though they are not intimate. It is their way." Drossk's eyes burned as he continued. "He has his concubines…and the daughter for that matter."

Jarod remembered the girl's comments about the taste of his cum. "Salty-sweet like father's" she had said. He felt the same anger and disgust rise in him that he saw in Drossk.

"So," Jarod said "as he is not the seed of the girl, he considers it not incest to have her."

"He takes her only by her mouth or anus," Drossk said. "He will not take her beyond that. It is forbidden."

"Seems precious little is forbidden by these people," Jarod spat out in response. Jarod felt uneasy in front of Drossk, since he, Jarod, had been entangled in a ménage a trios with Nola, his daughter, and Loran, the woman he had been sharing a bed with for 20 years or so. But Drossk, if he held any ill will toward Jarod, did not show it.

In a quiet, conspiratorial tone, Drossk spoke with urgency.

"Take her away from here, Jarod. When you get the chance, leave this place. Save yourself and save her as well."

"I'm not sure I understand," Jared said, matching Drossk's hushed tone.

"It's too late for me," he said. "After the ritual that binds you to Nola, once she gives birth to an heir, my services will no longer be needed. I will be made a eunich and the Mistress will choose a younger man for her concubine…perhaps they will share you, or perhaps she will take another even younger."

His eyes pleaded with Jarod.

"She is my daughter, no matter what the See believe. I want her raised among our kind, free from this perversion. For me it is too late, but not for you…or for her."

Drossk exited quickly, and before long Loran herself arrived. It was well into the darkness of night, and she bore a lamp before her, which bathed the interior of the tent in a golden glow. After hanging the lamp from a chain attached to the ridge pole of the tent, she held out her hands to Jarod, beckoning him to the chair.

"This," she said gently, "is the throne. It is central to our religion, a symbol of fertility and authority among our people. You must learn its purpose."

Loran spread a fur across the chair and coaxed Jarod closer. She removed his robe, casting her gaze up and down his body, and flared her nostrils, inhaling his scent. She guided him down into the chair and then removed her own clothing. Jarod took in her form…the supple rise of her full breasts, the triangle of auburn hair trimmed neatly above her smooth vulva. She was a symphony of flesh, sculpted and firm yet retaining the softness of curves that Jarod found most alluring in women.

"We are not barbarians, Legion. I know what your people say about us, that we are immoral, that for us sex is only a token of power and a reward for those who do our bidding." 

She smiled and shook her head, then kneeled before him, her hands on his knees, which were spread wide by the form of the chair. Jarod's cock was once more stirring, twitching and growing, reaching up toward his navel.

"It is not so. Sex is sacred to us. In the act of sex, we become one with the Goddess of Creation." Her hands slid slowly up his inner thigh as she moved closer, her breasts lightly brushing the inner sides of his knees. "That is why we teach our children how to give and receive sexual pleasure." 

By now, her right hand was flat against the fully erect shaft, and she pressed against it as she methodically slid the palm up and down. Jarod looked up at the ceiling of the tent as Loran's hand curved around the raging erection, milking it from root to tip. Already, the dew of his semen beaded up at the cock's opening. 

"Sex is not just for the aristocracy," she said as she weighed his tingling balls in her other hand. "If such pleasure was only for the powerful, would I assume this posture, subjugating myself to you this way?" 

She leaned forward and kissed the middle of his cock, then with circled finger and thumb, drew the shaft towards her mouth, engulfing the head in the moist warmth of her red lips.

"Mmmm…" she moaned, taking him deeper and still deeper into her mouth, her tongue stroking the underside of the throbbing rod. Her tongue continued to snake around it, spiraling from the underside of the base to the topside of the shaft. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced, beyond what he imagined a woman's tongue could do. As she plunged the cock deeper into her throat, she sang out in a series of grunts and moans and trills. Uncontrollably, Jarod felt himself looking upward toward the roof of the tent, his torso flexing instinctively. At this, Loran drew his swollen member from her lips, licking it briefly before lifting her head out of his lap.

"Whew!" she said, and breathed out in a way that was half a sigh and half a giggle. "You are something. Most men wouldn't have lasted halfway through that without erupting into my mouth."

"Disappointed?" Jarod asked, teasingly. 

"Oh no," she laughed. "Impressed. The last thing I want from you is premature ejaculation."

Loran got up off her knees and and moved around Jarod, still seated in the chair. She rubbed his chest and nibbled at his ears and neck as she whispered her next intentions.

"I want you inside me," she purred. "I want to feel you fill me so completely that I can't bear it, and then I want to feel your pulsing cock pumping your seed into me." She circled the chair, coming again the place between his legs. "And this chair is uniquely suited to fulfill that desire."

She placed her hands on his shoulders, then lifted first one and then the other leg over the sling-like armrests. Achingly, she settled herself down onto him, her glistening sex coming to rest over Jarod's aching erection. As she spoke, she rocked her pelvis on him, grinding against him in an excruciating pleasure for them both.

"The throne is almost like another partner in the act of love," she said as she increased the rocking, bathing his cock in her flowing juices. "It allows positions and motions that cannot be attained when merely horizontal."

Jarod, his hands free to explore her body, stroked her shoulders, arms and breasts. Her riding took on greater urgency, and she reached down between them, lifting herself for a moment to guide Jarod's massive shaft into her dripping cunt. She shuttered and cooed as her tight pussy yielded to his powerful manhood. Achingly she seated herself, until all of him was buried within her. Then she rose up abruptly, no more than an inch or two…pause…and back down. Soon she

began to vocalize, her lusty alto building in volume and pitch.

"Uh, uh, umm, uh, yes, Yes, deeper, yes, Deeper, ah, ah, Ah, fuck, oh, Oh, more, More, MORE, UUUUUHHHH!" she intoned, with Jarod's thrusts now matching her own. His own cries of lust matched hers, as they rocked and rolled in the magical chair. Jarod could feel her shutter with orgiastic delight as she inhaled deeply and abruptly, and clenched her inner self around his manhood. "Oh, oh my, oh Goddess divine…..ah, aHAH, ah, uh, mmm."

Jarod was amazed that he had not climaxed with her. It was without a doubt the most powerful fuck he had ever experienced, and yet, he had still not reached orgasm. Loran shifted about on his still rigid pole, teasing the last trills of pleasure from their actions.

"Oh Legion, you are - I'm without words." Loran said panting, catching her breath. "But the secrets of the throne are many. Here, this is how you will take Nola, in her ceremony."

Loran rose up and spun around swiftly atop Jarod. Again she spread her legs over the sling arms of the chair, reclining against Jarod, her rounded ass cheeks slipping to either side of the still hardened cock. Her hands guided his length past her pink anus and upward to her once more eager pussy.

"I know Nola's ass was a pleasure you could not endure, but in her coming of age ceremony, you will take her like this," she said in a husky voice roughened by the heat of their earlier sexual exertions. 

She stirred his glans around the lips of her opening, then glided it in and out, head only, in a teasingly tight and quick motion. Soon, when both of them could no longer deny the need, she slid down his torso and impaled herself deeply on him, taking the full measure of him into her wet cunt, flushed pink with the need to be fucked once more.

It was beyond his imagination, the pleasure that coursed through him as he thrust upward, harder and harder. Thoughts of freedom, of his family, of anything, fled his mind in the overwhelming rush of desire that filled him. They rolled and glided in the chair, like rowers on a single-minded course. He felt his manhood throb with the impending eruption of his orgasm. She urged him onward, taking him deeper and harder into her. His hands sought out her breasts and he clutched them forcefully, but the pain seemed to do nothing more than drive her passion to greater ecstasy. He reached down with one hand and slid a stiff middle finger between her labia, stroking her clitoris in rhythm with the thrusts of his proud cock.

She screamed uncontrollably, crying out as she convulsed in wave after wave of orgasm. Again, the pulsing of her cunt gripped his steely manhood, and he felt a lightning shot of unnamable pleasure track from his balls, up his cock, and through his brain. His throbbing cock catapulted streams of cum deep into her hungry center. They both shuddered and shook like beings possessed, as they spent their last energies in the climax and eased back once more into the comfort of the chair.

"Mmmmmmmm," Loran purred, sleepy with the drug of their lovemaking. Slowly, achingly, she lifted herself off Jarod and retrieved her clothes from the floor.

Her hair was tossled in dark red ringlets, cascading past her freckled shoulders and brushing at the edges of her reddened nipples. Her pubic hair was shiny, plastered with the slick juices of sex. She drew her hand down and slowly inserted two fingers between her labia, extracting the honey of their mixed wetness. She raised the fingers to her lips and took them into her mouth, sucking and licking them clean. Her obvious pleasure in all the sensations of sex was intoxicating to Jarod. He couldn't help thinking she was perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever known. Even the vision of his dark-skinned Andosian wife, now dead, seemed dimmed. Was he forgetting how she looked? How could that be? What was this power Loran had over him? How was he ever going to overcome his desire to share this woman's bed, and that of her daughter?

"Legion, you are Shaka-Ree, a vessel of manhood, pleasing to the Goddess. Nola and I are very fortunate to have found you."

She turned to leave.

"Jarod," he said softly, but loud enough to be heard.

"Pardon?" she said, turning back to him.

"My name. It is Jarod, not Legion."

She returned to him and kissed him passionately on the mouth. They nibbled at each other's lips and explored each other's mouths with searching tongues. She opened her blouse once more and pressed her full, rounded breasts against his muscled chest. Still kissing him, she searched out and enclosed his now sagging cock in her hand and massaged it. He stiffened once more, and for a moment, Loran contemplated spending the night there, with Jarod, pleasuring one another with hands and mouths and cock and cunt. She had yet to be taken by him anally, and she did so love that. There were so many pleasures and positions yet unexplored.

But he was her daughter's concubine, and Jarod would need his strength for the ceremony, where all would behold the glory of the Shaka-Ree and Goddess as they achieved Kulan, Jarod and Nola assuming the throne and performing the rite of passage for young women of the See.

Nola was in for one hell of a deflowering, she thought, laughing to herself.



A Free Man's Passion Ch. 03



When the sun rose the next day, everyone in the camp busied themselves with packing up the caravan, and before the dew was dry on the field grass they were on their way. Jarod was informed that they would arrive at the estate before nightfall. "Odd," Jarod thought, "I could probably steal a horse now and escape. I am no longer tied like an animal or chained like a slave. No one seems to be concerned with the risk of my running away. It would be simple enough, and yet..." His thoughts trailed off into wordlessness. He had no will to run. Had the sexuality of the Keera-See bewitched him? He couldn't seem to even focus on the thought.

Jarod was escorted to an enclosed wagon, where he was to ride with the girl, Nola, to the estate. Nola was already seated in the wagon, and Jarod to the seat across from her. They were alone. Evidently, this was the time for the two of them to become better acquainted. 

"Mother told me your real name is Jarod, not Legion," she said. "I am glad of it. Glad, too, that you chose to tell us the truth." She looked deeply into his steely-blue gray eyes with a look that revealed her true nature. She was an innocent girl, in spite of the sexual experiences she had growing up in the House of Keera-See. And she was curious, curious about why he would have lied about his name in the first place and curious about what life was like for Northlanders. Most of all she seemed curious about Jarod: what sort of lover and companion he would be for her.

"Legion," he said, "was my way of saying that there are many of my kind yet free in the North. I guess the metaphor was too subtle. It's no matter. I am here now. That is my fate."

Her green eyes flashed with gratitude. 

"I wonder sometimes about the North," she said. "But don't you get tired of just one sexual partner?"

Jarod tried to put words together to respond. He didn't want to insult her heritage, but he also thought about Drossk's words. He, the girl's biological father, wanted Jarod to take her away from the See and live with her as Norlanders do. 

"When one mates only with one, there develops a closeness that more than makes up for the lack of multiple partners," he said.

She reached out and took his hand in her own, examining them closely.

"Yours are the hands of a farmer," she said. "They are strong and sure, not soft with leisure like my father's." She rubbed her fingertips over Jarod's calluses, then guided his hand to face, and Jarod caressed her cheek and neck gently.

"I'm sorry they are so rough to the touch," Jarod said. 

"No, I like it," Nola replied earnestly. "It makes you so much more virile." Her hands descended to her waistcoat, and she deftly undid the belt that held the garment closed, then slowly spread the lapels apart, revealing her smooth, pert breasts. They were not so full as her mother's, but they were beautiful half globes with upturned areola. And they had the firmness of youth, the sort of firmness that made a man lust for women that he knows are too young for him.

Her breathing became more rapid as Jarod leaned forward to kiss her. Her lips responded with a growing passion; first lips, then open mouths, and finally tongues that danced about each others mouths and teeth.

Her breasts now heaving, she guided Jarod's hands to them. He cradled them in his palms, feeling their weight and then sliding his fingertips from the outer edge to the tips of the nipples. She trembled with anticipation.

"Kiss them, Jarod, please," she moaned, lifting her head back and lacing her fingers through her long flaxen hair, her elbows aimed upward. Jarod brought his mouth slowly down her throat, first kissing the nape of her neck, then tonguing the clavicle. As he stroked her breasts, he kissed his way down into her cleavage, gently pushing the half globes together and darting his tongue between them.

"Oh, oh my Goddess..." Nola whispered, catching her breath. 

As Jarod moved his lips and tongue over first one and then the other breast, her trembling breath gave way to moans of pleasure. She parted her legs further and hiked up her satin skirt revealing her creamy upper thighs and then the glorious lips of her womanhood . . . and the light blond tuffs of hair above them. Her hands descended from her own head and she laced her fingers through Jarod's darker blond hair. Deftly, without much urgency, she let Jarod know that she wanted his tongue to explore other parts of her body than her breasts.

Jarod continued his ministrations, licking first the crease below her breasts, then kissing her ribs and tracing his tongue down the center of her abdomen, finally dipping its tip into her navel. She giggled and moaned in a way that was at once girlish and wanton. Jarod couldn't stop thinking how coltish she was, both woman and child. It was a heady aphrodisiac. His genitals had long been tingling and swelling through this, but he decided that this moment should be for her. His needs would be met soon enough, he was sure, and at any rate, he was thoroughly enjoying bringing this young woman ever closer to rapture.

He nibbled at her pubic hair, causing Nola to squirm deliciously. Then, with moistened lips, he kissed her pubic mound rhythmically before licking at the sensuous divots along side her pussy, where a tendon was stretched just below the surface of her skin, where the inner thigh meets the pelvic cradle of her womanhood.

She could stand the delay no more. "Please, please," she repeated, without further instruction, knowing Jarod would understand her desires better than she knew them herself.

He started low, slipping his lips over the labia and lapping his tongue first over and then between the pussy lips. She shuttered and moaned as each tongue lashing moved from the sensitive area below the pussy up to the clit. He inhaled deeply of the perfume of her sexual scent as he built up the tempo and intensity of his oral lovemaking. She was increasingly more vocal as Jarod plunged his tongue deep into her, the end of his nose pressed firmly against her clit. When Jarod felt sure that Nola was on the brink of climax, he moved up to the clit, bathing it with his tongue, swirling the tip of his tongue around the swollen nub. He pressed in, sucking gently on the clit with his lips. Nola burst into squeals of delight as her orgasm cascaded over her. She pulled her knees up to her chest and forced Jarod's face tightly against her pulsating pussy with her hands, which clutched at the back of his head.

As she caught her breath, she released his head, and Jarod sat up and leaned back into his own seat. It was not Nola's intention to stop now, though. She reached across the seat and began unfastening his shirt, pulling it forcefully open and dragging her long fingernails over his muscular chest. Moving still closer, she unfastened his pants and pulled them down his legs as he lifted himself up to help get the pants over his hips. His cock was already stiff and swollen before she even had the chance to touch it, but she couldn't care less. She wanted him in her mouth, in her ass, even in her cunt, although that could not be until the ceremony, she knew. She cradled his balls in one hand, marveling at their side and heft. With the other she slowly stroked the engorged shaft.

"You are so big," she said, "Your balls, your cock, they are...my Goddess, I want to..." Interrupting her own words, she came rapidly forward and plunged the massive cock into her mouth. She bobbed her head rapidly over his groin, taking him deeply into her mouth and throat and then pulling up to where only the head of his cock remained in her warm, luscious mouth. She sucked greedily at it, rolling his testicles in one hand while pulling the cock toward her mouth with the other. She grunted hungrily as she sucked harder and harder. Soon she let go of his balls and reached down between her own legs, rubbing her clitoris vigorously as she sucked him off.

Jarod knew he couldn't hold off much longer, but he wanted a more intimate and mutual orgasm with Nola. He lifted her head from his lap and rolled over, face up, reclined on the bench, his cock waving about in the air, luring her over him. She climbed up on top of Jarod, her knees next to his shoulders, as she once again plunged his manhood down her throat. Jarod took her firm perfect buttocks in his hands and drew her pussy down to his mouth. 

She nearly gagged on the length and girth of Jarod's rod, though she showed no desire to pull it out or be less intense in her fellatio. With the earnestness of her youthful sexual urges, she ground her pussy into Jarod's nose and mouth wildly, all the while sucking intently on his shaft. Her moans and cries became animalistic as she slaked the thirst of her lust. 
 Jarod thrust back, with mouth and cock, caught up as well in the heat of the moment. Finally he could hold back no longer. Cum surged from his pulsating cock and she shook with near violence as her own climax washed over her. She gulped at the jism, taking it down her throat while she shook with the pleasure that coursed through her body, tingling up her inner thigh from her pussy to her tits, up to the back of her head.

She held his cock in her mouth long after he had stopped coming, keeping it hard as she gently sucked at his knob. She evidently finds comfort in this sucking, Jarod thought, and in spite of his recent orgasm, his cock showed no signs of softening under the attentions of her mouth. He inhaled deeply of the smell of her wet cunt as she drifted off into a deep sleep.

She awoke from her nap with Jarod's cum dried on her face. She looked up at Jarod, smiling sweetly. Jarod had spent the last hour studying the details of her face and body. She was perhaps not so voluptuous as her mother, but her lean youthful body held the promise of exquisite womanhood. He longed to see her grow into her prime. Her breasts would swell, her hips fill out in the full curves of beauty that are the architecture of an older woman.

By the time they had washed up and dressed again, the caravan had reached the outer borders of the estate. Miles of wheat and corn grew next to the road, acres upon acres that prominently showed the wealth of the Keera-See, wealth that grew, Jarod knew, from the labor of enslaved Norlanders. His own lot as concubine to the family was certainly one of comfort and pleasure, but Jarod knew that staying in this household would weaken him, bewitch him as it had Drossk. And his fate, evidently, was to be castrated and sent to the fields as soon as Nola bore and heir to the dynasty. The ceremony was evidently timed to coincide with Nola's cycle, and while there was no guarantee of her conceiving a child from the ritual, it was the intention of the See that their daughters get pregnant as soon as possible. Were twenty years of carnal pleasure with Nola and Loran worth the fate that awaited Drossk? While he was still thinking clearly, Jarod resolved that he would not suffer the same fate as Drossk. And as Drossk had asked, he would take Nola with him, if she would come of her own free will. And if she would not, could he leave her, knowing that she is fertile and perhaps bearing his child? Could he kill her, as he first thought he would at the slave trader's auction?

Preparations were already underway for the ceremony, which was to be held the following evening. Drossk schooled Jarod in the specifics of the ritual, which culminated, as far as Jarod could tell, with an audience watching Jarod take Nola's maidenhead. After watching this, no doubt their own lust stirred by the voyeurism, the spectators would join in a massive orgy. It was not Jarod's nature to commit such sexual acts in a public display, but while his rational mind rebelled against such a thing, he had to admit that he was not totally repulsed by the thought. Particularly the thought of finally fucking Nola, as he had her mother, in "the Throne." He daydreamed about the tight, glorious pulsing of her virgin pussy. "Let them look," he finally thought. "It will be enough that I will call her mine. And they will see her no more beyond that day."

As the next evening arrived, the foursome of women came to bathe and dress Jarod for the ceremony. Again, they "primed the pump," sucking his cock and rubbing his body down with their own oiled bodies. Again they drove his libido to the brink and then cooled his ardor, repeating the actions over and over. Jarod was sure that, when he finally released his cum into Nola, it would be thick and plentiful, teeming with his seed. 

Finally, the moment arrived. Jarod was dressed in a white satin gown with rich golden tapestry adorning the cuffs and lapels. Beneath the gown nothing but what the Creator had given him at his birth. The women escorted him to a large circular indoor amphitheatre. The seats were crowded with the See, families of wealth and distinction from all over the Southland. On the right-hand side of the stage Jarod saw two large ivory poles, rich with fertility carvings, spaced about six feet apart. To the left was an altar, white marble shot through with veins of green and gold. Lying on the altar was Nola, naked to the world, her long blonde hair cascading over the edge of the marble slab. Her reddish brown nipples standing erect on the summit of her beautiful breasts. Her skin glowed with the sheen of oil in the lamplight, her pubic hair nearly aglow it seemed from the light that flickered above her. In the center of the stage, Loran sat on the Throne, her own legs parted to reveal the red hair of her sex. She wore a gold mesh halter top, porous enough that one could clearly see her large areola and sizable breasts. Her legs were adorned with white deerskin chaps that left her ass and cunt fully exposed.

Somewhere, drums were beating. The audience leaned forward as the ritual commenced. Jarod was taken to the poles, where he was tied with red cords by the wrist. Loran stood and addressed the crowd.

"This is the wish of the Goddess, pleasing in her sight. This is the glory of Shaka-Ree, giver of life for Nola, daughter of Loran, heir to the House of Keera-See. Reveal the giver of Kulan"

Loran gestured to Jarod, and the foursome began again to rub and fondle Jarod, kissing him, licking him, stroking his manhood until it stood rigid once again. Then, unexpectedly for Jarod, they slathered his groin with a frothy white substance. One of the women pulled a straight razor from her belt pouch and kneeled before Jarod's groin. The sight of a razor coming toward Jarod's crotch made him uneasy to say the least, but he knew that they had no intention of cutting his cock. They had need of it, he knew, and so he held his breath as the woman deftly scraped the razor over his scrotum and pubic patch, denuding his groin completely. Another woman wiped away the froth and there stood Jarod's staff, proud and erect, as large as it had ever been. And the removal of the pubic hair made it seem even larger. The audience nodded in approval. Some women could be heard gasping at its sheer length and girth.

Jarod could see that Nola was being ritualistically shaved as well, her legs spread wide on the altar as other women shaved the luminous tufts of pubic hair from her pussy. Interesting, Jarod thought, that men did not perform the rite to Nola. The sight of feminine fingers tenderly rubbing and cleaning Nola's glorious pussy set Jarod's cock twitching in the air, something that many in the crowd took note of.

Loran walked over to her daughter, spread eagled on the marble slab. She began stroking Nola's bald pussy as she spoke to the crowd.

"This is the vessel of the Goddess, prepared for Kulan."

She leaned over the edge of the altar and began to kiss Nola's freshly shorn pussy. Soon, her tongue was working deeply into her cunt and Nola tossed her head from side to side. Loran rose up and walked over to Jarod.

"This is the glory of Shaka-Ree, Giver of Kulan."

Loran knelt before Jarod and took his swollen cock into her mouth. She slid it in and out of her mouth slowly three times, then sealed her lips just past the head and began to tease the opening of his cock with a fluttering of her tongue. It was a technique Jarod had never experienced before and he felt a surge of pleasure welling up inside him, but Loran pressed a thumb against the base of his cock, and he felt the impending orgasm subside.

Loran untied Jarod from the poles, removed his cloak, and brought him to the Throne. He was seated in repose, his cock standing high in his lap for all to see. In the audience Jarod could see people masturbating themselves or each other, though their eyes were still fixed on the ritual of the stage.

Nola was lifted from the altar and brought to stand before the Throne, her legs spread for the approving acclaim of the crowd. Jarod thought she glowed there, the whiteness of her pale skin and blonde hair against the backdrop of the shadowed throng. He looked at her glorious ass, a spare distance in front of him. He recalled the tightness of that asshole, which he had experienced once before when her mother guided Jarod's cock into her as she herself fingered her daughter as Jarod fingered her. Again his cock was fighting to be released, waving in the air, reaching of its own accord it seemed for Nola's ripe, round, girlish ass.

The crowd began to chant "Kulan, Kulan," in rhythm with the drums, and Loran helped Nola mount the armrests of the Throne. She grabbed Jarod's surging manhood and guided it skillfully, slowly, into Nola's hungry, wet cut. Nola quivered as she slid down and down on the long staff. She was exquisitely tight and slippery. Finally, a tense push, and he slid entirely into her cavity, and Nola began to ride up and down, slowly at first and then faster and faster still. She flexed her buttocks against Jarod's torso as contorted on his rigid cock. He returned her thrust with equal measure. Jarod reached from behind her and palmed her pert breasts, rubbing his palms over them in rhythm to their rocking fuck. 

Jarod lost track of time. It seemed to stand still. He did not see the crowd or hear the drums. He only heard his own deep grunting, coupled with Nola's screams of ecstasy. She was fairly shaking now in a seizure of pleasure. She had been in a state of orgasm for what seemed a limitless time, yet she showed no sign of coming down from the crescendo of her pleasure. She intended to ride him in wave after wave of orgasm until she passed out or died, and in her state she didn't care which happened. All she knew was that she wanted it to go on forever. The pulsing of erogenous pleasure made her quake,

"So, this is Kulan," Jarod thought. It was all he could think. His brain had ceased to function on a rational level. He couldn't even tell where his body ended and Nola's began. He seemed to be psychically linked to her, so that he felt what she felt. Her orgasm was his orgasm. He wasn't even aware at first of when the surging of his cum began or how long it had been pumping into her sweet cunt. His senses melted into hers and hers into his. There was No Jarod, no Nola, only nameless, endless bliss.

Loran, who stood beside the throne watching for the signs of orgasm, saw the rapture of pleasure on her daughter's face and smiled. She saw a trickle of cum emerge from between the pistoning cock and wet pink vulva lips. 

"Kulan is achieved!" she announced. To the cheers of the audience, she removed her clothing and waded into the throng of bodies before her, as the crowd began to suck and fuck each other in every imaginable combination. The drumming stopped, but the rhythm of the cadence continued as the See writhed in a knot of twisted flesh – hands and tongues and cocks penetrating mouths and cunts and asses in dizzying array. Here a cock erupted, spraying the face of woman who had been sucking it while her ass was being reamed by another cock and her pussy was being eaten out by a woman, who in turn was being fucked ass-and-cunt by two other men. Loran spread her legs wide and soon eager men and women were eating her pussy. A dark man with a cock larger even than Jarod's presented himself to her, and she sated her hunger for dick by sucking him off and then impaling herself on his still rigid tower. The pleasure/pain of that massive member in her ass drove her into waves of orgasm. All around the amphitheatre wafted the pungent aroma of sex. It was their intention for this to continue through the night.




A Free Man's Passion Ch. 03



Eventually, Nola and Jarod came back from the mystic state of Kulan. Tears of happiness streaked down her face. Jarod swept her up in his powerful arms and spirited her away to the stables, not far from the amphitheatre. He intended to steal a horse or two and run away that night, while the crowd was distracted with their own lovemaking. No one would realize they were gone until morning, and by then they would have a long head start. 

"Nola, I love you," Jarod said. "I don't know if you even understand what love means to me, but I love you." "I love you too Jarod," Nola said, kneeling before him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his flaccid cock. He felt it stir.

"I love you, but I can't live like this," Jarod continued the becoming hard for him to say as Nola slipped his limp cock into her mouth and began resuscitating it. "Nola, come away with me now. We can ride to the North. We'll have a life there, the two of us."

Nora pulled the now hardened cock from her mouth and looked up at Jarod. Jarod feared that she was angered. Was she in fact only in love with their lovemaking, he wondered. Would she turn him over to her mother's guards, to be chained once more and only brought to the house when she or her mother wanted to be fucked?

"I may go with you, Jarod," Nola said smiling. "but first I want to know what I'm going to get in exchange for what I am leaving. Fuck me again, Jarod. Fuck me like there is no tomorrow, and I'll ride with you."

Nola lay face down in a pile of hay, her glorious ass raised up to Jarod. He kneeled behind her and began to eat her pussy with long strokes of his tongue. Soon he rose up and brought his long cock to the valley between her buttocks, sliding it up and down the divide, spreading the juices of their lovemaking all along her crack. She reached back with one hand between her legs and cupped his scrotum in her hand, softly massaging and tugging on the sack. Jarod could stand it no longer. He had to be in that cunt once more. His turgid manhood slid deeply into her, and he pumped in and out with wild abandon. Nola growled and twitched with growing lust, thrusting her ass up to meet his powerful thrusts. She tossed her hair about wildly and grunted deeply as Jarod thrust ever deeper.

"My....ass," she groaned between thrusts, " take....my...ass....NOW!"

Jarod drew his cock out of her, slick with cunt juice, and dragged the tip up the valley of her butt cheeks to the tight pink hole of her butt. Tight as she was, she was eager to have his take her in the ass, no matter how large he was. She remembered that day in the stall when she first met him, and her mother had allowed her to be butt fucked by him.

"We seem to have a thing for stables, huh?" Nola joked as Jarod inched his glorious prick into her rectum. "You seem to have a thing for taking it in the ass," Jarod said back, now laughing himself. He was amazed that Nola could elicit such laughter and lust at a time like this, when their lives were in the balance and every minute delayed was a minute closer to being recaptured. "Oh, just shut up and fuck my ass, Jarod," she responded playfully. It was magical. She felt like her head would explode as Jarod pumped her ass, alternating deep and shallow strokes. Then he reached around her and began to rub her clit with his middle finger.

"Oh, yes, oh fuck, yes, Fuck Yeah, uh, UH, Ah, Ah, Ah, OOOOOOOO, OH!"

Her cries of lust put Jarod over the edge. There wasn't much cum left after the transcendent orgasm of Kulan, but he shot off what was left deep inside her. He pulled out and fell beside her in the hay. He wanted to sleep. He needed to run but he wanted nothing more than to sleep.

"Come on, silly," he heard Nola say. He opened his eyes and gazed on her form once more. The golden hair, now decorated with hay. The fine shoulders, the curve of her hip, the rise and fall of her heaving breasts with their upturned nipples. The long, sinewy legs that met at that glorious ass and now bald pussy. Nola threw a kilt at him that she found in the tack room.

"We'd better ride if we're going to get safely north," she said laughingly, as if their flight was just an adventure and they were in no danger. He loved her even more for that innocence. It would be a hard ride, and they might not make it, but by the Gods, Jarod meant to try. 

"Do you think I'll like the Northland?" she asked as they mounted the fastest horses of Loran's stable.

"I have no doubt," Jarod said. "After all, you are a Norlander yourself in truth. Your true father, Drossk, was a Viking, and even your mother was no doubt of the seed of Norlanders. You were meant to be free, as I was and will be again. Together."

"Together," she repeated, smiling at him with pure love. 

She turned her horse north, and Jarod noticed her breasts jiggle in the open air as the horse pranced and then broke into a run, wondering how far they would be able to ride before they had to rest the horses and resume their lovemaking.