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The Warrior

By: twilight_song



CHAPTER 1: The Summoning

Violent winds whipped the trees into a frenzied dance, shaking free debris and leaves that swept down from the edge of the forest to swirl around the young woman standing alone on the beach. Allorah looked at the bruised clouds with trepidation. Dark and heavy, they crouched on the horizon, illuminated every few minutes by wicked spikes of lightning. Bone-shaking growls of thunder were amplified by the black expanse of ocean until they seemed nearly deafening to the inhabitants of the small island. Never in her lifetime had there been such a storm, yet she had the foreboding sense that this was only a precursor to the true threat. 

The threat that was posed by the invaders to the north. 

Tall and strange, they had landed on the island's northern shore when she was still just a child, and they brought with them bizarre creatures, and unfamiliar ways. Almost as soon as they had arrived, they began clearing the woods around the area of their landing, erecting houses and fences with the raw wood, and setting loose their animals to graze on the newly opened spaces. To her people, who lived in the sheltering boughs of the trees, such behavior was unfathomable, and unnerving. Especially when rumors of what had happened to the original inhabitants of the northern region began to circulate. Soon after, it was decided that everyone would withdraw to the south, and there they had remained for twelve years. No one ventured to the north, and the foreigners didn't seem to have any interest in probing farther than a mile from their settlement. 

Until a year ago. 

Perhaps their population had reached a size where expansion was becoming necessary, or maybe their youths were frustrated with the confines of their territory. Whatever the reason, they had begun making expeditions into her people's land, and the encounters between the two were increasingly violent. Events came to a head at a time when Allorah was spending a rare night among the other people of her town. 

People sat around the communal fire, talking and eating and singing in the company of their fellows. Women shared gossip and news, older men told circles of children about some of their more exciting hunting experiences, and young men vied for the attention of the maidens that giggled and blushed in response. Since the communal fire was one of the few things to be located on the forest floor —as all but small cook-fires posed a hazard to the wooden structures of their arboreal homes— nearly the entire village could gather around the cheerful blaze. 

Allorah sat to the side, not completely alone. A few of the bolder youths had positioned themselves around her and were attempting to coax her into conversation. One boy in particular, Geldan, was especially persistent. He was only two years older than she, but was already decorated as one of the town's finest hunters. She saw how the eyes of the town maidens followed him, watching the muscular lines of his sun-browned body, and she knew any of them would count themselves lucky be in her place. 

Yet the attention made her uncomfortable. For she was apprenticed to the island's Priestess, and though her vows did not constrain her to celibacy, her training kept her mostly in solitude with the old woman as her only companion. In fact, up until her fifteenth year, the only people she had seen at all, aside from those she and the Priestess were called upon to heal, were her parents, and then only on rare occasions. At that time, Priestess Dannonae must have felt it time to begin re-introducing her to society, so they began making trips from their secluded tower-home to the complicated network of walkways and bridges that was the rest of the town. It was then, Allorah believed, that Geldan had first taken an interest in her. On each of their visits thereafter, he always seemed to find ways to cross paths with her, and she could feel his gaze on her as she went about her business.

Sitting by the fire, she listened politely to his stories, but never allowed herself to be fully drawn into the discourse. He didn't stop trying though. Not until the wounded boy staggered into the clearing. 

There was a collective gasp then a swirl of activity as people rushed to the boy's side, and others ran to fetch healing items. They quickly made room for Dannonae and Allorah, for they were the most skilled healers on the island, yet as soon as Allorah saw him, she knew his wounds were fatal. He was bleeding from multiple places on his body, but the killing blow was a horrible gash in his belly, barely held together by his weakening hand. Priestess Dannonae knelt at his head, cradling it, and Allorah moved to his side to hold his free hand. They remained like that as he used his dying breath to tell them what had happened:

He had been a member of a small hunting party that had the misfortune to cross paths with a wandering group of foreigners. Many of them were cut down within minutes, but the boy and a few others had managed to escape, fleeing back to what he thought was the safety of his village. Suffice it to say, he was followed. What came next was a merciless slaughter of all the menfolk, and while the boy hid and watched, the foreigners proceeded to loot what little the village had in goods. They grew heartily drunk, and made games of raping the women. The children they soon grew tired of, so they slit their throats and carried on with their activities. At some point, the boy's hiding place was discovered and it was then he obtained the wounds he would die from. They were too drunk to finish the job, however, and the boy fled again, somehow managing to make it to where he now lay, passing along his horrifying tale through lips increasingly frothed with blood. 

There was a stunned silence after he had finished. Hushed murmuring began again as a few people returned with the healing things, and Dannonae quickly recruited several men to lift and carry the boy to a more isolated location. Allorah followed, and when they placed him in a small room on a level close the the forest floor, she and the Priestess went about trying to make him as comfortable as possible for the little time he had left. 

After a few minutes, shouting erupted from the area around the communal fire. Affirming that Allorah could take care of matters with the boy, Dannonae returned to the fire to oversee the inevitable debate that was taking place there. As she sat, gently stroking the boy's hair back from his face and holding his hand, Allorah listened to the heated voices outside. They rose and fell in anxious rhythms but she could not make out more than the occasional word. It was hours later, when the moon had set and the boy rested in a state of unconsciousness that he would never wake from, that Dannonae finally returned. She wearily brushed a hand across her face, looking grimmer than Allorah had ever seen her. 

"What has happened?" She asked. Dannonae sighed and closed her eyes a moment.

"There still needs to be a complete gathering of all the village Heads before we can come to an official decision, but that is only a formality. The events we heard described tonight are the proof of what I long knew –and dreaded– would come to pass. There is only one course of action for such a thing, and they all know it. It was only a matter of time..." She trailed off, lost in her thoughts. 

Allorah rose from her bedside post and went to Dannonae. She shook her gently, trying to draw her back to reality. "What was only a matter of time, Mother? What?" Allorah felt an ominous dread in the pit her own stomach, at once needing to know the answer, and fearing to hear it. 

Dannonae gave a tired sigh and placed one hand gently on the crown of Allorah's head. Suddenly, she looked very old. Her white hair hung in despondent wisps around her face, and the lines around her grey eyes seemed to have deepened over the course of the night. Allorah stood still and waited. The answer, when it came, shook her to her very core.

"My dearest child, we are going to war."

And war it was. It was only a matter of hearing the boy's story to convince the other village Heads, and his tattered young corpse was enough proof for anyone of the story's authenticity. For the past year, hunters from each of the scattered villages had taken up arms against the invaders from the north, and most proved to be as apt at hunting men as they had been at hunting beasts. However, the foreigners soon took note of her people's new temperament, and they increased their own aggressions in response. Her people fought their best, and they used every advantage their familiarity with the land could afford them, but it soon became clear that this was not enough. It was all they could do to slow the foreigners' relentless advance south and the death toll increased every day. There were simply too many of them, and her people had never been conditioned to war, as these strangers seemed to be. 

For Allorah, it was particularly frustrating. She and the Priestess worked until exhaustion to deal with the steady stream of wounded men and boys that came back from the front-lines. Yet, they were only two, and they could only help to mend that which had already been broken, never able to take more direct action. Allorah knew that unless something happened to change the tide of the war, her people would eventually fall.

On the eve of her eighteenth birthday, a tremendous battle was fought alarmingly close to one of the island's main villages. Their forces emerged victorious, but only just, and Allorah spent the entire night, and most of the next day tending to the injured. In a rare moment of calm, Allorah was startled to see Dannonae approach her with an ancient-looking scroll in hand. The Priestess would not explain her motivation, saying only that Allorah should read it. She did. 

It was instructions for a ritual, and it contained an unfamiliar version of an old myth Allorah had been told when she was small. The essence of it was that in a time of great peril, the inhabitants of her island had somehow managed to bridge the gap between their world and the Other, the realm of dragon warriors. They had enlisted the help of several of these fierce denizens, and through their efforts, had triumphed over the evil that plagued their land. It was a common story, and one of Allorah's favorites, but the scroll seemed to suggest that, impossibly, the tale was more than mere myth.

In confusion, she went to Dannonae and insisted that she explain. 

"My dear, you know as well as I that we cannot continue like this. We must either seek help, or we will be overrun."

"Help? Help from whom?" Allorah paced the room, too tired to sit still. "Priestess, I don't understand. What does this scroll have to do with the war?"

"Everything. The ritual contained therein is the key to our survival." Dannonae watched her restless movements with an Elder's calm. As Allorah opened her mouth to ask another question, Dannonae silenced her with a raised hand. "We haven't the time for me to explain all, but I will tell you this: the rite is a spell of Summoning."

"A Summoning..." Allorah breathed. Though she had heard of such a spell, once again it had only been as a children's tale. According to legend, a Summoning opened the magical Gates between worlds, and, as the name suggested, summoned a creature to their own world. In the past, it had been performed in times of need, but as peace settled firmly over the island, the knowledge of how to invoke it had been lost. Suddenly, Allorah understood.

Dannonae watched realization dawn. "Yes, my child. It is our only chance." 

Allorah nodded, determination setting in. "Then we must begin preparations immediately; we've no time to waste." She quickly strode over to where the scroll rested on a counter and scooped it up, scanning its contents hurriedly. "It says we will need to gather..." She trailed off when she noticed the Priestess had not moved. 

"There will be no 'we' this time, Allorah. This is something you must do. Alone."

"But... Mother, I am only an apprentice." She said in confusion. "Surely this is something for a full Priestess—"

"You are a priestess in all but name, Allorah, and you know it." Dannonae said, cutting her off. "If not for this war, we would have already had held the official ceremony." Seeing the expression of shocked doubt Allorah wore, she continued in a gentler tone. "You have all the tools you will need for this. Trust yourself."

She shook her head. "I don't think I can do this. Too much depends on it. Couldn't you—?"

"No." Dannonae said sharply. "It must be you. I can't say why, just that... Just that I am not fit for it. It must be you."

Allorah felt a wave of doubt threaten to overwhelm her, but she knew the old Priestess well enough to tell when she'd dug her heels in. She closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to muster her courage for the task ahead. It took two more similar breaths until she was ready to open her eyes again. "I supposed I had better get working, then."

"Yes," Dannonae agreed, "for the ritual must be performed tonight."

She spent the rest of the day collecting the things she would need. Various herbs, a ceremonial knife, candles, a skin from one of the giant cats that resided on the island, mortar and pestle, logs for the fire, and of course, the scroll. The ritual was surprisingly simple, and for that Allorah was grateful. She was not sure she could manage something more complicated in her exhaustion. 

The lightning crackled, rousing her from her thoughts. She spent one more moment staring out at the the darkened ocean, as the gale made her midnight hair dance around her delicate face, and pressed the nearly transparent ceremonial robe close to her body, before she pivoted and walked back to the forest. As soon as she'd reached the shelter of the tree-line, the wind lessened considerably, but she still found herself wishing that she'd had the foresight to bring a cloak or a shawl to keep in the heat her thin garment did not. 

Still, as she made her way through the darkened forest on silent feet, the movement restored some measure of warmth to her her, and the act of focusing on where she stepped kept her alert. She need fear no foreigners here in the heart of the wooded island, but though she knew these lands so well as to be able to navigate them blindfolded, it seemed irreverent to disturb the soothing quiet that pervaded this sacred place. And walking without sound, in the pitch black of the moonless night, required concentration. 

The subtle aura of ancient power that pervaded this part of the island seemed to thrum through the trees around her, through the stream she followed, through the earth itself, rising through the soles of her bare feet to resonate with the echoes of her heartbeat. She could feel the soul of this place, slow and sure and still so very powerful, even after ages had passed. Allorah felt herself being pulled gently into a dream-like state. Awake, but not.

For a moment, it was as if she looked through the eyes of another, seeing herself from the outside: the pure white of her flowing robe and the porcelain of her skin stood out in the blackness, ethereal and ghostly. She noticed, with mild embarrassment, that the garment did little to hide the contours of her young body. Narrow shoulders tapered to a tiny waist, flaring again at her hips to give way to shapely legs that were long in proportion to the rest of her small body. Her breasts, round and firm, were not as large as some, but still had weight enough to bounce softly as she walked, the plain robe doing more in the way of draping than supporting. Thankfully, the sash that kept the garment closed hung down at the front, obscuring the black thatch of hair at the junction of her legs that Allorah was certain would otherwise be visible through the scanty material. At her shoulders, her long raven's-wing hair fell in soft waves. In daylight, the sun reflected silver on its silken length, but here under the midnight trees, the obsidian tresses blended eerily with the background, adding to the image of some otherworldly being. And then were her eyes. In that instant of strange vision, her eyes, an unusual violet shade under normal circumstances, seemed to glow with some internal light.

The vision vanished as she reached her destination, but she remained in the state of half-dream as she began the ritual. She quickly kindled a fire in the center of the ancient glade, in a pit designed for that purpose that looked like it hadn't been used in decades. She lay out the cat-skin in front of it, and went about making careful designs on the surrounding earth with candle-wax. It was slow, tedious work, but she was patient and eventually that step, too, was complete upon placing the candles at precise locations of the pattern. Next, she seated herself on the skin, opened several bags of the herbs she had collected, and began mixing and grinding them in the mortar. When she finished, she picked up the knife. It was a simple thing, unadorned except for a tiny circle engraved on the base of the blade. Murmuring the required words, she made a quick, shallow cut on her thumb and let five drops fall into the herb mixture. She carefully set the knife aside. 

Finally she stood, removing all the tools of her preparation from the skin, and untied the sash of her robe. Without it, the fine cloth fell open, slithering from her shoulders to pool on the ground at her feet. She folded it neatly, and set that aside as well. Then she knelt, and took three deep breaths. Everything was ready.

The incantation written in the scroll came easily to her lips; she'd taken the time earlier in the day to memorize it, leaving her free to focus. Like the rest of the ritual, it was elegantly simple, a short phrase of words laden with power. As she spoke them over and over again, she occasionally took a pinch of the herb and blood mixture, tossing it into the fire. It flared dramatically, each time causing the fire to swell in size, until it was a massive blaze. 

Allorah could sense the energy of land and spell gathering, building, and became distantly aware of the fact that the flames had changed in color from orange to a bluish-white. She felt more than heard a low rumble around her. It too began to change, rising in pitch until it was a shrilling whine, seeming to swirl around her like the wailing of malevolent spirits. For a moment, Allorah's steady chanting faltered as the sound pierced her concentration, but she quickly re-focused herself and continued, raising her voice to match the volume of the roar. 

Just as she was sure she could not endure it any longer, the sound abruptly ceased and she was left shouting to the still night. She drew slow shuddering breaths, waiting for something to happen. Only silence. Then, suddenly, she realized what she needed to do, and the words came to her from some place deep within.

"Warrior, our need is great; I summon thee from beyond the Gate!"

And, so saying, she threw all the rest of the herbal mixture into the fire.

There was a deafening boom and a flash of light so brilliant it was blinding. Allorah felt herself knocked backwards from the force of the explosion, and for several moments, she could only lay there. When she gathered the strength to push herself upright again, her eyes went immediately to the fire. At its center, there seemed to be something forming. A shape grew out of the conflagration, solidifying into the form of a man.

He stepped from the flame and she was dazzled by his radiance. She was not sure what she had been expecting; an enormous dragon, perhaps, or some sort of human-beast hybrid. Certainly not the long-limbed god she saw before her. There was no clothing to hide the sculpted beauty of his body, the perfect breadth of his shoulders tapering to slim hips. His emerald eyes took in her own unclothed body, roaming over her, assessing. 


The Warrior



Warning: Those who don't like bittersweet romance, short stories or Asians, please leave now.

Still here?

Well, I hope you enjoy this one! It's short but I wouldn't want to change a damn thing about it.

Lillian.

1700s, China.

Lee dropped his armor onto the bed, uncaring to the damage that the spikes could do to the feather-ticked mattress. His muscles were weary and all he wanted was a hot bath and forty hours of sleep. He was denied either for the Emperor had summoned him for a discussion of the ten-month-old battle that they had just fought. 

He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to think about anything. The blood, pain and fiends should be forgotten just like the passing winds. But he couldn't afford to lose his accounts of the battle for he was the Kingdom's Squire- a position held only by those who were the most worthy. 

He settled onto the bed, waiting for some water and food. But even that small interval gave him an opportunity to think and whenever he thought, he thought only about one person.

Anna, he sighed, his countenance softening a little. He remembered the time that he had saved her from an Opium gang when she was a girl of eight and he was a man sixteen. It had been merely an act bound by honor, but ever since that night, she had haunted his dreams. He had even gone out of his way to track down her parents for her, but the British were nowhere to be found in this part of China. And so, at sixteen, he'd been saddled with a pretty little eight-year-old with eyes the color of nectar. 

What else could he have done but set her up with an Ama, in a house by the river? He was a man with ambition and certainly couldn't afford to stay behind looking after little girls!

But the last time he had returned home, Ama Ming-En had told him that Anna would be turning eighteen in the summer, an age which should meet her married. She had already learned to speak Mandarin and would make the perfect bride for any man, Ming had boasted. 

And so he had given her permission to find Anna a suitable husband. He didn't know why that order rankled him so much, but it did. Maybe it was the thought that she would be sharing the covers with a man that she didn't know or the fact that he had always thought of her as his possession...

The knock on the door made him snap out of his daydream. Distant water won't help put out a fire close at hand, he thought as he gave the order for the person to enter. He was expecting Chin, his assistant, to bring in some bathwater. Instead, there was a flurry of white skirts as women entered his domain. 

Oh heavens, Lee groaned. Not again! His Majesty loved to send veiled women to bathe his top-in-commands. 

He watched as the women set up their 'equipment'. Only one of them stood aside, waiting. All their faces were powdered white and their eyes were averted. He wondered just how many of them were sent by their fathers to seduce him into marriage. 

Then, just as quickly they had come, they disappeared through the door. Only one of them remained -to help him bathe, he guessed - and Lee sighed, resigned to his fate for the Emperor would think it disrespectful if he sent the maid away.  

The woman had abundant dark curls that were piled on top of her head in a knot. The white garment that she wore swept the floor as she walked. Her hips, well-outlined by the material swayed enticingly as she sashayed towards him with a wet cloth. 

Lee took off his underclothes then, knowing that his scars would frighten the poor lady to the next province. But what could he do about the situation? The lady was here to do a job. 

But the woman seemed unruffled by his wartorn body and just gestured for him to sit on the bed before kneeling before him to clean off the blood on his skin. 

A wind picked up outside and blew a scent through the windows. It was the scent that had haunted him for most of his life; he was not surprised to find it in his chamber as well.

Anna, Lee thought as he stared out through the windows. If only...

Anna lathered the herbal medicinal powder onto the cloth and gingerly swiped at Lee's wounds, trying desperately not to cry. Oh, why did he have to go to battle? Her heart would ache every time he left the country to wage war on some foes that were not even his.

She recalled with great clarity of the times that he had come to visit her over the years. He would sit with her on the veranda talking to her about everything and anything, usually participating in a one-sided conversation. His peculiar jokes made her giggle and she could still remember every single one of them that he had told her. However, although a man and a woman were not allowed to converse before marriage, their relationship wasn't a conventional one for they were friends. 

She sighed. Why was she lying to herself when the truth was that she was desperately, passionately, irrevocably in love with him? She would do anything for him but she knew that a donkey's lips would never fit a horse's mouth. In the same way, he would never fit in the village that she so loved. He belonged in a battle field with his men, his horses.

Caught up in her thoughts, she didn't realize that a tear had slipped unchecked onto his skin. But he had. Lee looked at her then and spied the beauty mark at the base of her thumb. 

Anna. 

He caught her by the shoulders and dragged her to a standing position. The cloth fell from her hand as he ripped the veil away from her beautiful face. Her skin was as creamy as he remembered, her eys as bright, her lips as cherubic. He felt an unknown emotion well up inside him but cast is aside, letting his anger at her ignorance consume him. What if someone had caught her sneaking into his chamber like she had?

"What are you doing here? I told Ming-En to get you married off," Lee asked through gritted teeth, not knowing if he really wanted to hear the answer. 

"Yes. But no one wanted me. You should remember that you ordered my feet not to be bound when I was but a child. No one would take in a big-footed daughter," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lee cursed, remembering his order. He should've just let her feet be bound and be done with it. But he had seen it being done to his sister; the way she had screamed in pain over and over again made him take pity on Anna. He didn't want her to even feel the slightest touch of pain. 

"We'll talk about this later, Anna. Go back to the village now. I'll send a missive to Ming-En," he said, not knowing if he really wanted her to go or not. He had missed her over the ten months, missed their conversations, missed her smile. And now that he knew she wasn't married, all sorts of unholy thoughts were bombarding his senses.

Anna didn't move. She stood there, coveting the feeling of his hands on her shoulders as she looked into his eyes, trying to tell him all the things that shouldn't escape her lips. Please, she thought. Don't ask me to leave you just yet. I want to be with you, feel your touch against my skin. I want you to keep me close, so close that maybe someday, you'll learn to love me.

Saints in Heaven, Lee thought. Her eyes were tempting him to the dishonorable. She was so beautiful, so fragile that she stroked his instincts to protect and possess. 

"Do you remember," she whispered, "the time when you came home with your friends to practice on the grounds? And one of your friends tried to make mischief with me. You held my hand that day when you talked him out of it. And I believe that with that, you took my heart as well."

Lee felt like he was going to cry. He couldn't remember crying once in his twenty-six years on earth, but her words were melting his heart. The love and passion in her eyes made him want to bind her to him by marriage, give her all the love that she wanted and needed. But it couldn't be done- his position demanded that he take a Chinese bride.

But it couldn't hurt if he tasted her just once, could it?

Her mouth opened willingly as his came down upon it. She didn't fight him. Instead, she inched closer, resting her palms lightly on his exposed abdomen. 

The kiss was enlightening for Anna. His lips were soft and giving, in contrary to his hard body. He sipped at her lips gingerly at first, then pressed against her firmly, using his tongue to swirl over her moist folds. 

She shivered in delight as his hands stroked down the length of her arms and raised it around his neck. He was just a little too tall and she went on her toes and leaned into him for support. The heat from his skin burnt through her silk garment and she gasped into his mouth when she found her nipples hardening.

Even if she couldn't have him as her husband, Anna thought, she would have this one night. 

She leaned away from him and unfastened the white cloth that she wore, letting it slip to the floor like foam from the sea. Holding her head high, she stood proudly as he devoured her with his eyes.

By the Spirits, she was beautiful. Unlike any woman he had ever seen! Her rosy nipples stood out proudly against her chest, as though the twins were waiting for his administrations. Her hips were well-rounded and although Chinese men usually preferred skinny women, he thought that she was the most ravishing creature that he'd ever laid eyes on. 

And she was giving herself to him.

Freely.

He was a man of honor, yes, but a man could not be made of stone. His want for her spread through him like a fever and made his manhood twitch almost painfully. He shouldn't. He would spoil her for any other man. But there was some part in him that felt a twinge of glee at that idea.

She took his hands then, and placed them over her breasts. Cupping his wrists, she uttered one word: "Please."

It was all Lee needed to hear. He picked her up in his arms and moved toward the ornate bed, watching the candlelight flicker over her pale skin. The dew of their kisses was still upon her lips and he leaned over and licked it at it. She made a sound at the back of the throat that intensified his need sevenfold. 

His caresses were just a little urgent now, Anna thought, a little more ardent. His tongue trailed moist kisses along the curve of her shoulder and she sighed as delight consumed her. He was being so gentle with her, as though she were a porcelain doll. She just wished that she knew what she could do to please him.

His mouth came back to her lips, claiming a teasing taste that stirred the juices of her own hunger. Gold dust sparkled behind her eyes as he deepened their kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth, drawing a moan of need from her.

Her hands slid up his muscled back and she moved her body against him, needing him to touch her everywhere. And he obliged, stroking down the length of her torso before settling his mouth over the bud that rose from her breast. 

Her breath was coming out in shallow pants and she couldn't seem to hold a thought in her head. Pleasure like none other was consuming her. She tangled her finger in her beloved's hair, loving him the most at that moment when he held back to give her pleasure. His tongue laved her nipples; turning the turgid peaks a darker shade of pink before his teeth bit the tip and pulled. 

Anna's breath caught as her eyes rolled back in her head, the pleasure too intense for her. 

"Lee, please," she begged, not knowing what on earth she was begging for, only knowing that he was the only one who could grant her what she desperately needed.

And Lee, cursing himself for being as weak-willed as a cat, let his fingers trail down to her dark curls, kneading the mound with his palms, feelings the moist heat there. She was more than ready for him, he thought on a haze of pleasure as he toyed with her there, slipping his fingers into her, playing with her as though stroking the oo-zheng, a musical instrument. In and out his fingers delved and she arched into his hand, wanting him to go deeper. 

He thrust his fingers into her heat, priming her for his possession. She was so tight that he wondered how he was going to enter her without hurting her. But she was arching into his hand and he felt her muscles contracting around him in desperate need for release. He had to have her. Now.

Pain lanced through her as he penetrated his length into her moist folds. Anna held herself rigid, unaccustomed to pain in her nether regions. But he was whispering lovely, sweet words into her ear. And slowly, the pain faded away on a breeze of pleasure. Every time he rocked within her, sparks seemed to spread throughout her body. 

And he started to move. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist and gasped as he seated himself deeper within her, his groan telling her that he liked her response. Their bodies were slick with sweat and they molded together as he moved against her, the friction of skin upon skin bringing them to the unfamiliar ecstatic heights. 

He was rubbing against a sensitive spot in her and Anna gasped, clutching at his shoulders as she neared some glorious pinnacle. Pinpricks of sweetness danced along her skin as she tumbled over the edge, the pleasure spiraling out of her body as she cried out and contracted around him. 

He followed in her wake, spilling his seed deep inside her. Exhaustion claimed him for a moment and he collapsed onto the bed, pulling her up against him before tucking her into the curve of his shoulder. She felt so right.

It was wrong, Anna knew, but she didn't care. She had experienced the surmount pleasure love could bring and she would never forget it. He would always be the one she would love, she thought, be it in this century or the next.

****

Lee awoke to rapid knocks on the door. Anna was still nestled against him, her breath warm on his shoulder. He called out, asking whoever it was to leave the message.

"Sir Lee, you have to hurry. We are being attacked by the Manchus on the Northern border. Your horse is being readied as we speak," the messenger announced before retreating in a hurry.

Anna was awake by then and she stared at him with knowing eyes. Lee felt his heart ache with sorrow at having to leave her behind after their night of loving, but it could not be helped. His country needed him. 

Anna helped him dress, knowing that he would be leaving her. But duty called out to him and he was honour-bound to answer. 

Trailing her fingers over his armor, she leaned over and kissed him, a good-bye kiss full of longing and despair. 

And with one fleeting look, he was gone.

****

Anna waddled out of the countryside house, her eyes scanning the route from the city. 

Nobody. 

She had thought that for a moment she'd heard the telltale noise of a horse's hooves. But no, she was fooled yet again.

Picking up the writings of Confucius that she'd been reading, she made her way to her favorite tree stump, under the large cherry tree. It was such a comfort, she thought, to be reading in the shade with her little one for company.

But as usual, the allure of the afternoon humidity became too hard to ignore and she dozed off, leaning against the tree for support.

And that was how he found her, nestled against the tree with the half-open book in her hand. She looked so at peace, so beautiful and so very... large. 

Ming-En had written to him about her condition and the letter had only reached him two days ago. He'd gotten on his horse, then, without a second thought and rode home like there was no tomorrow. 

She was carrying his child. 

Nothing less could have brought him to his knees. His Anna was carrying a child because of the night that they'd spent together. Just the thought of it made him long for her touch, her love. Because now he knew now that he could return it fully; he'd spoken to the Emperor about her a few months ago and he'd consented to their marriage. 

He crouched before her and watched as her perfect golden eyes blinked open. She smiled.

"I knew you'd come," she whispered as though she was still in a dream, holding her arms out to him.

He embraced her, reversing their positions so that she was nestled in his lap, her belly protruding from the pink silk dress that she donned. He trailed his hands over it, appeasing his curiosity of the life inside her that was more than a part of him. He jumped when he felt the baby move within her.

Anna watched him and watched his reactions. He still looked like the man that she loved, even after the eight months of separation. Granted, he had a fine stubble outlining his jaw and his skin was much darker than propriety allowed, but he was hers. Hers to keep, she hoped, for there could only be one reason for his return to her side in the midst of war. And he looked very pleased about the little one as well, which made her smile.

He cupped her face in his hands then, looking deep into her eyes. She was as beautiful as he remembered, much more so when she was with his child. His heart swelled with potent emotion as he held her close under the cherry tree, whispering his love into her ear.

She was the only one for him, he knew, and she would be the only one for him in the many years to come.



The Warrior



She put her foot up against the lifeless body on the ground below her, and with a grunt she yanked her sword out and turned to face me. Stricken by panic, I froze for a moment, watching her start towards me. Though she was covered mostly by simple strips of leather, the fearlessness on her face told me that this humble farmer wouldn't stand a chance. I scrambled to my feet and began to flee as I saw her pick up her pace as well.

What felt like an eternity was actually just five minutes of running before she caught up to me. A kick to my backside sent me to the ground. I turned over to find her standing above me, her sword pointing to my throat. She was a giant of a woman, no less than six feet tall, with dark hair and piercing eyes. My breathing instantly became heavier as those eyes examined her next victim. She leaned in and I could see strange markings on her skin, looking like they belonged to some barbarian infidel cult.

One stroke of her sword tore my cloak down the middle. I began to sweat as she opened my cloak with the tip of her blade, presumably checking for concealed weapons. But why this, when I was already at her mercy? I held out my hands and stammered, "N-no weapons. I'm unarmed."

She smiled a carnal smile that continues to haunt my dreams. I pleaded with her as she reached down and grabbed me by the neck, pulling me off the ground in only my under garments. She struck me in the face, pushed me around, and tore off my remaining stitch of clothing with one motion of one hand. Next came shackles on my wrists, on my ankles, and a gag in my mouth. Holstering her sword, she lifted me onto her shoulder, firmly clasped my right buttock with her hand, and carried me over to her horse.

Laying me across the animal's back, she jumped on, pulled me onto her lap, and off we went into the distance. I was too frightened to move, too excited to mumble a sound. 

When we reached our destination, she dismounted, slung me over her shoulder again, and carried me into her tent. She threw me on to the bed at the center of the room, then walked out the entrance. I laid there helpless, gradually glancing around the tent. Armaments, training equipment, and all kinds of instruments of violence decorated the sides of her room. Between the bed and the entrance was a large cast iron pot, heating over a fire. I could smell the ash and smoke. Was I to die like this, cannibalized by these barbarians?

She returned with an iron rod, which she placed into the pot. She removed her belt along with her sword and hung it on a rack nearby. Next she threw off her leather clothing, rubbed the back of her neck, and stretched out before the fire. I watched in silent anticipation as she took the rod, held it over the fire, and inspected its blazing glow. She stood up, came over to me, and... held me down with one hand. The rod sizzled and stung tremendously as she touched it to my lower back, my screams muffled by my gag.

I could hear her cackle at my pain. What kind of a beast would take such delight in causing misery to another person?

She sat down next to me on the bed, her naked body doused in soft firelight that made her almost appear human. Gently, she reached over and unshackled my wrists and ankles. Then out came the gag. I dared not move. Instead I lay staring at her. She leaned in close. Suddenly her hand clamped down on my throat.

"I could crush your windpipe in one squeeze," she said without expression. "I could take any one of these weapons around this tent and smash your skull with it in no time at all."

If I was not frozen already, I was now. She stroked the side of my face slowly.

"You understand what this is. You are spineless, I am feared by many. I could have killed you without a moment's thought, but instead I have brought you here, branded you, and made you my property. It is only natural that if you do not die, you serve."

She slid her hand down my back and pressed on my searing skin until I cried in agony.

"That is your lot in life. Should you ever break it, I will not hesitate to slay you on the spot."

"Yes, Ma'am, I understand!" I belted out. She relaxed her hand and softly rubbed my back, creating a delicate mixture of pain and pleasure.

"Would you wish to be dead, or would you wish to serve a strong, fearsome warrior in ways that none have the privilege of serving?"

"I would wish to serve, Ma'am."

She stood up and ordered me to my knees in front of her. I crawled off the bed, my back aching with every movement. Yet as I finally found myself in front of her, something changed. The pain subsided. I forgot how I came to be there. My nakedness, my lower standing, and my brand began to make sense. The light from the fire that had made her look almost human now cast her as a being from the Otherworld. The soft glow danced across her bare skin as I gazed in awe. She was tall, muscular, with defining angles to every corner of her body, and the dirt and scars left as mementos from many battles made her seem so far beyond me. The strange markings on her glistened in the firelight.

"Kiss my feet," she commanded me. I put my hands around her leg and licked her bare foot slowly from the toes to her ankle. She stammered, as if about to say something, but then let me continue. I kiss and licked up her leg, over her knee, and when I reached her hip, she shoved me off and struck me across the face.

"Behave yourself!" she growled. She held my head to her other foot, and again I kissed and licked my way up to her hip. She grabbed me by the hair, bent me over the bed, and lashed my bottom with a whip. The first time tore the skin. The second time left a mark. The third and fourth stung.

She pushed me back on my knees, then turned around and pushed her bare ass into my face. "Lick this, bitch."

I licked. I kissed. I put my hands on her firm cheeks and rubbed and massaged them as much I could. She pushed my face deeper. I moaned. She grunted and sighed. Then I nibbled her cheeks a little. She whirled around and knocked me across the room. Before I could move, her hands were on my neck. She panted and looked me over, gritting her teeth.

"I know what you need," she said after a minute. The carnal smile returned to her face. I crawled patiently back to the side of the bed and waited on my knees.

A moment later she came over, a large glass dildo fastened around her. Before I could utter a sound, she grabbed my head and thrust it down my throat. My own cock immediately went erect.

"That's what I fucking thought," she laughed.

I resisted at first, while she held my head in place. I could feel her strength meeting my resistance and keeping me still. I could also tell that she was hardly exerting herself. There would be no hope of stopping her from using me as she pleased. It was a mortifying, thrilling thought.

She slapped her glass dick on my face a few times after making me pleasure it a while, then ordered me onto the bed. As soon as I climbed on, she grabbed my waist and pulled me back towards her. I felt like an animal caught in a trap, like a fly caught in her web. Her cock pushed into my anus, as I squirmed and gasped and tried to move. Her hands didn't budge, and she continued to pull me back onto her dildo. It felt as hard as her body. I clenched down, trying to push her out, but her dick was too much. She was in control.

She put her hand on the back of my head, pushed it down onto the sheets, and thrust back and forth inside me. Her right hand gave a firm smack to my right ass cheek as she kept on pounding me. I began to gasp and moan in the most humiliating manner. Her strong hands pushed down on my back and shoulders, and I knew there was no getting up until she was finished with me.

I felt a tug on my hair after she pulled out, and my mouth was forced onto her cock again. "Clean it," she barked. The taste made me cringe, but I did as I was told. She laughed and spit on my face. I kept cleaning.

Finally, she grabbed something from behind me, and I felt her place it on my neck. It clicked as she pulled it tight. She knelt down and attached a leash to the large iron collar now hanging around my throat. Once again, that carnal smile came across her face. Every night it haunts my dreams with the most pleasant of memories.

She removed her glass strap-on, took a fistful of my hair, and shoved my face an inch away from her crotch. "This is what you want, isn't it?" She was breathing heavily, the color of her eyes matching the color of the firepit. I began to breathe heavily as well, my lips parted, and my tongue slowly crept out.

The leash pulled hard on me, keeping my head just barely out of range of her. "Beg," she growled. "Beg like a dog."

I pleaded with her: "Please, Ma'am, let me pleasure you!"

She laughed loudly. "Don't make me whip you again, boy."

"I-- may I please worship your pussy, my warrior queen?"

Her eyes narrowed on me to cut like a blade. A slight smirk appeared. "Like. A. Dog."

I began to panic inside. Did she really want... no, she wouldn't. I stumbled to find something else to say and blurted out, "I beg you, my Owner, allow your lowly slave to please you." 

She slapped my right cheek. 

"Beg." 

Then my backhanded my left one.

"You."

Again the right.

"Fucking."

Again the left.

"Dog."

I kept my gaze on the floor, too ashamed to look up at her. I could see her feet before me - the feet I had so enjoyed licking and kissing. What am I to her? A toy? A barbarian? A beast?

She had kept her promise to domesticate me, to show me my lot. This warrior I had thought a savage now held my leash, had marked me as her own, and commanded me like an animal. I saw no other choice. But deep down, I wanted no other choice.

I barked. I begged. I panted and I struggled against the leash. She stayed firm.

Then suddenly the resistance disappeared. I dove into her like a wild mutt, licking and slobbering. I could feel her body tense up, yet she stood still, one hand holding my leash and the other forcing my mouth on her.

After some time, she grabbed my head with both hands, pushed me against the side of the bed, and mounted my face. She rode and rode and rode until we were both dripping.

Though I expected her to collapse in exhaustion, when she finished she simply took me by the leash and led me to a cage next to her bed. I eagerly crawled inside. She detached the leash and locked the door.



The Warrior and The Elf



His body was eating itself, his heart was pounding harder than ever and he faced a desperate struggle with each and every breath. His shield lay broken at the battlefield, his sword stuck in one of the few unlucky attackers but he still had his armour, weighing him down more than anything. 

His legion had walked straight into an ambush, they were attacked from all sides and never stood a chance. Barely minutes had passed before he and his fellow soldiers broke and ran. Now only he survived, the others having been cut down or captured. 

The warrior did not know where he was, his surroundings were simply trees -- thick, ancient trees. The leaves and branches were so thick that the sunlight itself was broken up into little spots, spots that danced on the ground as the trees moved with the wind. At any other time, a man could have admired the beauty of nature that seemed to pulse through these forests. Although the warrior dare not stop. He did not know if he was being chased. He did not know if the attackers were still looking for survivors. But he dare not stop.

WHACK!

Carelessness that can only come with blind fear or raw hatred, struck the warrior. A loose branch on the floor had caught his foot and he fell to the ground with a bone-crunching thud. The pain washed over him, his body ceased up from exhaustion. He looked up to the sky, saw the dancing spots of sunlight, and then faded into darkness.

****

Her hands caressed his body, feeling him and searching him. It was as if she were blind and her only means of identifying the warrior was through her hands. But they were glorious hands. Smooth, warm and gentle, as close to perfection as can be.

He opened his eyes, the pain had left him and his body was now relaxed. The warrior saw the woman for who she was... an elf, a mistress of the forest. Her golden, vibrant hair flowed down to her waist. Her red lips were full and wet while her blue eyes sparkled with a youthful joy. From the look of her she was barely a woman, not much older than the warrior's children he had left behind to go to war. But her beauty was more than any man or boy could ever dream of. She was a Goddess, and the warrior was under her lustful spell.

Her breasts were round and large, held in by a tight corset which, though keeping them tight to her chest, allowed for a mesmerising display of cleavage. The warrior stared at these incredible breasts, and the elf didn't mind, indeed, she looked the warrior up and down as well.

Her corset stopped at her waist, giving way to a see-through dress that billowed in the wind. Her legs were the purest of whites, smooth and strong. If the warrior could have told of her, his listeners could have scarcely imagined the raw sexual, lustful energy that seemed to beat off of this majestic creature.

The elf sat on top of the warrior, oblivious to any social guidelines. Her naked vagina rested on top of his growing erection, which itself was underneath his own trousers. She moved on top of him, like the trees would move gently with wind, with her eyes shut in a dream of her own. The warrior simply stared at her, he would not close his eyes like she did. As she moved forward and backwards, his penis became fully erect and it hurt against the restrictions of his trousers.

Her eyes slowly opened, she looked down at him and seemed to sense his growing discomfort. She undid the warrior's trouser belt and pulled his trousers down to his knees. His penis stood fully erect for the elf and the trees to admire. And to the warrior's immense satisfaction, the elf did admire his penis so.

She lowered her head to his erection. Opened her mouth and brought her long, wet tongue from the base of his penis up to the tip. The warrior shuddered uncontrollably, letting out a pleasure-filled gasp. She kissed the top of his erection, her lips touching ever so gently on his member. Another shudder. A groan of pleasure. She kissed again, so close to actually taking his throbbing erection in his mouth, teasing him horribly. Her full lips were lush and wet and so, so soft. She sucked on his tip, ever so gently, as one would taste an ice cold lolly. 

Was he dead? Had the attackers caught him and cut him down as they had done to his friends? The thought dawned on the warrior, for this surely must be heaven. He looked down at the elf, she stopped playing with the tip of his penis and stared back into his eyes. She smiled a confident, evil smile and the warrior could only muster a half smile back. And then she took him for all he was worth. He gasped, almost crying out in the unbelievable wave of pleasure that hit him.

Her mouth covered the entirety of his erection, sucking harder than any human woman could ever manage. Up and down. Up and down. She wanted him to cum and she wanted him to cum right that very second. He groaned in pleasure as his penis was wrapped in the intense, soaking mouth of the elf. Again and again she would suck with all her might, her whole body moving and generating as much energy to suck. The warrior felt as if his insides would shoot out of his penis, the pressure was so intense. So unbelievably overwhelming.

He cried out, more deafening than any war cry on the fiercest of battlefields, and the intense pressure exploded out of his penis She never stopped. She was relentless. Taking his cum in her mouth and wanting more, pumping him for more, and he was in no position to resist. Again and again he ejaculated into her mouth but it was never enough. Her teeth ground up his penis, her tongue licking every drop of spunk and her mouth relentlessly pumping him for more. He obliged again and again, it wasn't as if he was in control, but he found himself being overwhelmed. The pleasure was mind-blowing, her relentless sucking was almost painful and he felt exhausted.

She lifted her head up, to the warrior's relief, he could now take a breath. She smiled at him, pleased at how well she had pumped this human warrior. As she sat up he felt her wet pussy rest against his penis. Could there be more? Would he be able to take it?

She took his hands in hers and guided them up her body. He felt her soft, calm breathing and her hot, milky skin beneath his fingers. She stopped guiding his hands under her breasts, but he couldn't stop now. His hands were fairly large although even he could not cup the elf's fully rounded breasts. He wanted to see them. He wanted to grab them. He wanted to suck and taste them.

Seemingly, she read his mind. Slowly and teasingly, she pulled at the thin string that kept her corset tight to her body. Immediately he felt her breasts start to come into his hands, let down by the corset. She leaned closer to him. Her lips touched against his and he felt their tenderness, their wetness against his own harsh, dry lips. Her tongue came out and he opened his mouth to allow her inside of him. She kissed him in a way he had never been kissed before. She tasted him, he tasted her.

And then she left him, returning to her sitting position and that was when the warrior realised that, in his hands, was the elf's corset. He looked down, surprised, to see this impossibly tight piece of clothing in his hands. And then he looked up at her...

To be continued...



The Warrior and The Priestess



Kazumaru walked through the forest, the spring night breeze flowing through his hair. Having just trained with Hanzo and the others, he was worn out. He walked, running his partially gloved hands through the leaves of the trees, "How's it going guys?" The leaves rustled as if in response. Kazumaru's hair fell down unrulily as it was not held up by its usual tie. He walked the forest without his trench coat, wearing only his black jeans and a white t-shirt. As he walked through the forest, he heard the familiar sound of the nearby waterfall.

Beginning to disarm himself, he walked towards it. Running his left hand over his scared, closed left eye and through his raven black hair, his right hand reached back and unsheathed Oni-Musou as he stabbed it into the ground. He laid the other four, scabbard and all, next to his prized "demon" and proceeded to remove his gloves and shirt, leaving him standing in naught but his black jeans and boots. He walked out into the small lake and under the steaming water of the waterfall. He rinsed his hair and stood there, looking down and letting the water just drip off his hair. His body began to steam and glow red as he used his ki to help clean himself off and burn away the dirt. The cuts from his training began to disappear in flames; the only scar remaining was the one on his left eye, which he seldom chooses to open.

Then the flames leapt up from his body, creating his wings and armor. His sealed eye blazed with fire as it snapped open and he dashed to Oni-Musou, his "Demon without peer." Freeing it from its place in the ground and falling into stance, flames and heat waves dancing around him, "Who's there?!?" he shouted, knowing the ki was no that of one of his friends. His eye gleamed and glowed brighter as the flames within it danced more fiercely, allowing him to see the woman hiding behind a tree. "I can see you're there, come out!" he ordered to the unknown woman.

She slowly peered out from behind the tree and Kazumaru saw a priestess, her radiant gown glowing in the light of the full moon. Kazumaru perceived that she was not a threat and stuck his sword back in the ground, calmed his flames and resumed his shower, sealing his left eye again. "You shouldn't sneak up on people like that, it might get you killed." He dropped his head again and ran his fingers through his wet hair, cleaning it and just enjoying the feel. He felt a familiar ki emanating from the priestess, but unable to place his finger on it, hi chose to continue bathing. He ran his fingers back through his hair, leaving it falling only down his back. He stepped out from under the water and looked at the priestess, seeing something familiar that he couldn't quite place his fingers on.

"I am sorry. I didn't mean to sneak up on you I just... I'm a moon priestess and I was walking through the forest enjoying the moon." The girl said.

Kazumaru looked at the moon and paused momentarily, "Then don't let me stop you, it is a beautiful moon tonight."

The girl clasped the green gemmed necklace around her neck as Kazumaru turned his back to her and picked up his shirt and gloves. As soon as she touched it, chills shot up his spine and his hair flared up and then fell back down his back. He turned around to face the girl and realized instantly who she was. Through her gown, through her appearance, through her demeanor, he saw Nari, his old friend, his old love. The girl looked at the floor and spoke, "I'm sorry, I can't explain it, but something is drawing me to you." Kazumaru dropped his shirt and gloves and walked towards the girl. His presence was driving her crazy, her hands instinctively clutched together in front of her as she looked at the ground, trying to hide her sudden arousal. "You don't recognize me huh? Maybe it has been too long," Kazumaru said as he slowed to a stop mere feet from her.

The girl couldn't explain it, but she suddenly found herself wet all between her legs. 'Surely this man isn't doing this to me,' she thought. Kazumaru noticed that the girl was getting anxious and fidgeting a lot. He had now noticed for the first time how her hands were clasped in front of her, as if hiding her nakedness from him, though she remained fully clothed. Kazumaru walked towards the girl and she tensed, ready to flee, but something inside her told her not to, to trust him. Kazumaru hugged the girl and held her close, all of the tension fading from her body as he did. "Don't worry, I promised you I would protect you, I know it's been a while and I don't know what's happened to you. I'm sorry I was gone for so long, but I never intended on breaking that promise."

The girl pressed tight against him, feeling safe from the world in his arms, comforted and without worry. "My name is Freya," was all she could think to say. Kazumaru looked her in the eyes and saw the glazed look in them. She couldn't explain why, but she leaned forward and kissed him. Kazu leaned into the kiss, relishing in it. 

He again looked in her eyes as they broke the kiss and told her, "I love you." 

The girl was confused having never seen this man in her recollection why should he love her? Why would he love her? But against all reason, against everything she could try to rationalize, she believed him and reciprocated without thought, "I love you too baby." And with that they entered into a deep passionate kiss, tongues dancing and entwining in their mouths, exploring the others.

Freya reached up and wrapped her hands around Kazu's back. As the kiss deepened, she felt the bulge in his pants press against her stomach. She broke the kiss and brought her hands around to the front of his pants and proceeded to undo them. She looked into his eye feeling her way around to unclasp his pants and let them drop to the floor. She brought her hands back up and wrapped one arm around his back and let the other drop into his boxers. Feeling the length of his member, her eyes widened and she looked down not believing one of her senses and wanting to confirm it with another. Her eyes confirmed what her hands felts as Kazu stood fully erect at what appeared to be 7 inches. The wetness between her legs now dripping to her feet, Freya looked Kazumaru in his open eye and kissed him again passionately. In the midst of the kiss, Kazumaru removed the tiara from Freya's head and unzipped and slid her dress off of her and onto the floor. Wearing no bra, her breasts were exposed to the cool night air and her nipples instantly grew erect. Her black panties drenched to the point of virtual non existence, the cool night air brushed its light touch across her sex and sent chills down her spine. Kazumaru kneeled and untied his boots and finished removing his pants and boxers and lowered Freya to the ground, her dress providing a place to lie.

Kazumaru leaned down over Freya and just kissed her, passionately, for what seemed like an eternity when eternity is not too much, and yet not enough. He broke their kiss, saliva trailing from both their mouths as moved around to kiss her neck. She leaned back, providing him with better access and let out a low moan of pleasure. K He kissed his way down her neck, to her collar bone and her chest, stopping betwixt her breast to look up at his lover, her head leaned back urging him on, "Don't stop baby, it feels so good," she told him in pleasure. Kazumaru smiled and blew across her breast, she loot out a coo in pleasure. "Please baby, don't... UHAHH!!!" she moaned as Kazu took on of her nipples in his mouth, groping her right breast with his left hand and supporting his weight with his right arm. He ran his tongue across her nipple and encircled it, continuing to lick all over it all the while kneading the flesh of her right breast with his hand and twisting and pulling the nipple until she brought her hand over his to aid his efforts. He relinquished his grasp on her breast and leaned over to kiss and suck it, but only for a moment, as he continued his journey southwards. He kissed and let his tongue dance over her body until he reached her belly button, stopping to kiss it once, and again, the second time allowing his tongue to dance over the inside of it, creating goose bumps all over Freya's body as she let out a moan, the fire and anticipation building more than before between her legs; a pool of her juices lay on her dress from mere anticipation.

Kazumaru kissed his way down Freya's body, stopping just shy of her sex. She jumped up and looked down at Kazu, shouting, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!? DON'T STOPP!!!" 

Kazu blew across her sex, just barely brushing her lips with those on his mouth, "I'll take care of you baby, don't worry. I want you to enjoy this." The touch sent Freya sprawling back to her previous position; her backed arched, lifting her plump, luscious breast into the night air. Kazumaru kissed his way down her left thigh, holding her legs open, watching her with his single open eye as a hawk watches its prey. He kissed his way back up her thigh, not teasing this time, but wanting to satisfy his lover.

He kissed her lips and the simple touch was all it took to push Freya over the edge, as she shook and writhed in orgasm. "Ooohh..." she moaned as she came in Kazumaru's mouth. As Kazu finished lapping up all the honey she gave for him, Freya began to sit up. Kazumaru stopped her, Oh no you don't, I'm not done yet. Your time is coming soon, just be patient."

"But... ohhh," she began to protest, but was cut short by the feel of Kazu's tongue entering her. Falling back to the ground, she groped her breasts, the pleasure from his tongue already driving her wild. Kazu searched and began to familiarize himself with her insides. As he found her nub, his tongue slathered all over it. "OHHH, I'M CUMMING... I'M CUMMING AGAIN BABY!!!" she yelled into the night sky, not caring who heard, as she cascaded again into Kazu's mouth, filling and then overflowing it. She sat up as he rose to meet her, face to face, as she licked her own juices from his mouth. They entered into another kiss, her juices mixing in their mouths as their tongues entwined.

They kissed deeply and Freya brought her hand up to grasp the back of Kazumaru's head and pulled him deeper into the kiss. She broke the kiss and looked him in his eye, stroking the side of his face, "I love you baby, I remember everything now, Kazu." 

Kazu looked her in her eyes, "I'm happy baby, I'm glad I made you remember." As he brushed her now wild hair out of her eyes, he pulled her in and they kissed again. As they did, Nari grabbed his now 8 inch member and broke the kiss, pumping it in her hand, "It's my turn now baby, let me please you." Without argument, Kazu rolled onto his back as Nari positioned herself between his legs, allowing her to look up at him as she continued to stroke his member and pump it up and down as she began to lower her head.

Kazumaru moaned as he saw and felt his member begin to disappear into her mouth, her hand still pumping up and down. She lowered her head until it reached about halfway down his shaft and backed up, continuing her efforts with her hand. Kazu moaned into the night air, "Oooh, so good baby." 

She smiled hearing this and lifted her mouth off his member, "Oh? Really now? I'm not to sure I believe you. Show me, let me hear you." She returned her mouth to his member, sucking as she lowered engulfed it.

Kazu let out a sharp gasp. "Uhahh... so good baby, your mouth, your hands, you feel so good," he told her. Her head bobbed up and down as her tongue slid up, down, and all around his shaft. Her teeth gently scraped against his member as she continued to suck him off, drawing him ever nearer. "Uhhh... So good baby, almost there." Encouraged by his words, she bobbed and pumped faster as his hands moved to the back of her head. "Rrrrr!!!" he growled as he came all in Nari's mouth. She drank up his seed as fast as she could, but couldn't avoid overflowing and having some drip down to her chin. Nari rose up to kiss Kazu as he continued to cum on her body. She kissed him, both their cum mixing in their mouths.

"I love you baby," Nari told Kazu in a soft, sensual voice, looking at him with a deep, loving look in her eyes. She gently traced her hand along the scar over his left eye. 

Kazu grasped her hand and brought it betwixt their bare chest, Nari's breast heaving in the night air, bouncing ever so slightly from the movement of her arm. "I love you too baby, more than anything. I'm sorry it took me so long to get back to you, but I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere, I'll never leave you again."

Nari smiled coyly, " Don't worry baby, you'll have plenty of time to make it up to me baby." She pushed Kazu back onto his back and pumped his already stiff member with her hand, "Starting right now." She straddled Kazu as he let out a sharp gasp. "You want me to ride you?" she asked, knowing his answer.

"Yes baby," was his only response.

She lowered herself onto his massive member letting out a long groan of shear pleasure, "OOOH... You're so big baby." She lowered herself all the way down his shaft ever so slowly, adjusting to the monster inside her. Kazu and Nari both let out cries of pleasure in unison as she slid down to his base. "Soooo big baby, you fill my pussy all the way," she told Kazu as he sat up and she wrapped her hands around his neck. 

"And your cunt is so tight baby I don't ever want to come out of you," Kazu said as he grasped her hips instinctively. And for a moment, they just say, Kazu filling Nari, Nari swallowing Kazu. Both joined together as one being and holding their counterpart.

Without warning Nari raised herself almost off of Kazu and lowered herself back down, slowly beginning to bounce up and down on his member. They continued, gradually building speed. Nari hunched over Kazu as her breast pressed against his chest as they embraced each other. Nari pulled back a bit to look at the man she was with. As she looked into his single open eye, she knew there was no man she would rather be with. She was 'fulfilled,' both physically and emotionally. Kazu gazed back into her eyes and knew that he loved her and he would never break his promise. He would protect her from everyone and everything that had ever hurt her physically or emotionally. 

"Oooohh...You feel so good inside me baby, I'm so full with you. It feels so good," Nari Told Kazu as she proceeded to grind on him as she reached his base. "OOOOHH... I'm so close baby! I'm gonna cum all over you," Nari cried ou

Kazu trembled, "I love your tight pussy baby, I'm so close, cum with me." They increased their speed even more, Nari's luscious breast bouncing wildly as she bounced on Kazu and he pounded into her.

"AHHHH... BABY!!!" Nari cried out as she brought Kazumaru back into a tight embrace as she increased her speed even more, on the verge of climax again. Kazu began bouncing her faster and faster still as both bodies tensed. He let out a loud roar and they both released torrents, Kazu inside of Nari and Nari on Kazu. They sat there, embracing each other, Kazu protecting Nari and Nari loving Kazu as they both watched the moon, both fulfilled, neither wanting naught but to be together with the other for the rest of time...



The Warrior and The Storyteller



Once upon a time there was a Freewoman of High Caste. She was to be FC-ed to a Merchant, but alas, on the Bridal Journey to his Homestone, her caravan was set upon by Mercenaries... the men were killed; the valuables seized... the maidens accompanying her enslaved... and as the lady was of High Caste, the Mercenary Captain offered her a choice - the collar... or the silver cup.

This lady took one look at the Mercenary Captain... a warrior large and strong... so handsome, she actually felt herself swooning... but being a lady of intelligence as well as great beauty and wealth, she proposed thusly: She would spend the next 40 nights telling him tales and regaling him with stories... if after 40 nights, he was pleased with her - he would set her Free... and if not - he would slay her honourably. Delighted at the lady's courage and spirit, the Rarius accepted the challenge.

She was kept as a captive of honour in his tent... and was permitted to retain her veils of modesty. And so the first few nights passed pleasantly enough... the lady spun tales of high adventure... of battles and love... of treachery and deceit... of friendship and martrydom. Her voice was very pleasing to him... soft... well-modulated... dulcet tones tinged with a hint of restrained passion. Her eyes which glowed over her veils were beautiful... large and green and held his heart captive within the first few Ahn. Her slender form well-concealed by the robes offered but a hint of the treasures underneath... and when she would push back a stray lock of golden hair with a slender gloved hand, he felt his fists clenching...

Night after night he came back to his tent and night after night she regaled him with a story. Never were there 2 the same... and never did he cease to be delighted with her... 

And so the nights passed. The maidens whom had travelled with her had long since become pleasure slaves to his men... her riches long stripped and distributed to the mercenaries. The Rarius found himself aching to race back to his tent after the long day just to be near her... and fought with himself at every turn not to seize her slender figure in his powerful arms and crush her to him. He was, after all, a man of Honour... and she, a freewoman of High Caste.

And so... 39 nights passed... and the last night of the challenge was upon them. Was she to continue to be so pleasing... forcing his hand to free her, and perhaps never set eyes upon her again? or was she to fail to live up to her potential and would his hand be forced to draw her blood with his sword? 

All that day he growled at his men... cuffed the slaves... kicked his kaiila... refused his meals. His mind and soul were in torment. He cursed the Priest Kings for sending him this woman... why did he accept the challenge in the first place??? Was he not a man??? Should he have not facestripped her at first sight and placed her in his steel as is befitting a woman?

When the 3 Moons glowed in the evening sky, he stalked to his tent. He was not a happy man. Drawing back the curtains partitioning off the Captive alcove, he nearly keeled over from shock. The freewoman stood before him, wearing naught but a bit of silk and the very last inner veil upon her face. Lifting her green eyes to his, she spoke. "This is the last night together, Captain... and on the morrow I shall either be returned to my father's House or in the Cities of Dust. I took the liberty of allowing you to have something to remember me by..."

Her bare hand indicated the warming kalana near the fire. "By your favour, Captain... do sit... for this last story will be one of sadness and bittersweet emotions...". Growling under his breath... the Rarius nodded and sat crosslegged... gritting his teeth, determined to make this night last. His heart pounded so furiously as to threaten to leap out of the very chest cavity wherein it lay... gazing upon her... her beauty almost revealed... the outline of her features almost in view under the sheer veil... her long limbs hardly concealed by the silken garment... her lush firm young breasts pressing against the soft fabric... Wondering if a man could actually die of lust, he shook his head to clear it and kept his eyes upon her.

The lady moved with the grace of a woman to the center of his tent. "This last story will not be in words, Captain." Her voice was husky and raw with emotion. "For I am a woman... and know of these things... one of them is that what words cannot express, perhaps the body can...".

And she begun to dance. This was not the wanton, wild dance of the experienced red-silk kajira... the fire of belly burning bright... nor was it the dance of the frightened white-silk... the dance of submission to one who owns her. This was a dance of a woman... a woman torn... between the propriety of her status as a High Lady of bearing and the desire raging with in her as a woman awakened. She danced her terror... of being captured on her way to a Companionship with one she had never met, nor loved... she danced her relief at being treated with kindness and respect upon her capture... she danced her shyness at spending such an intimate amount of time with a man... she danced her loneliness when he was away during the day about the business of men... and she danced her grief... at having to leave him. 

She danced... and when she was through... she was kneeling quietly before him in the position of the free woman... in Tower... breathing heavily... a sheen of perspiration coating her heated skin... her light garments clinging to her form...and she wept. And she awaited her fate.

The Captain gazed upon her... and wept. Never before had he seen such pure beauty and undiluted innocence. He reached for his kalana and tossed back a gobletful. "You please me greatly, Lady of Stories... I cannot but honour my promise to you." Lowering his head, he continued. "You are free to go... I will send 10 of my men to accompany you back to your father's Homestone... you will return in honour, as is befitting a Lady. He will see you have not been compromised, and your bride-price shall not be forfeited." Choking back a sob, he waved her away. "Leave me!!" his voice was anguished and keened of his loss.

The woman regarded him for a few ehn... and then with a quick, irrevocable motion, ripped the veil from her face. She crossed her wrists and lowered her head before him. "No." was the only word she uttered. With a cry of triumph and delight... the Captain reached forward and seized her... swooping her into his arms...crushing her lips with his in a kiss that sealed their fate forever.



The Warrior Ch. 02



CHAPTER 2: Spellsworn

Allorah awoke to the vigorous chirping of birds and an unfamiliar ache. It encompassed most of her belly, but seemed to originate at the apex of her legs. Keeping her eyes tightly shut, she turned a little and burrowed deeper into the warm softness of her blankets. She knew she would have to deal with the bleeding soon enough, but in this chaotic time, quiet moments were rare, and she relished the opportunity to simply relax. When Dannonae came to wake her, she would get up.

At the thought of Dannonae, she sighed. The old Priestess had likely been up all night again, caring for the wounded. And as much as she wanted to stay abed, Allorah couldn't reconcile her own selfish wishes with the suffering of the men awaiting her attention. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes.

She noticed immediately that she was not in her bed. Instead, she was outdoors, in an ancient glade with the pale morning sun angling in to light the area in sparkling rays. And she was not alone. A man sat not so far away, cross-legged, studying her with brilliant green eyes. He was completely nude.

With a gasp of shock, Allorah shot upright, reaching too late for the cat-skin that had been covering her, as it fell to her waist. For a moment she froze, until she saw the man's lips curve in a small smile at the sight of her bare breasts, nipples proudly erect in the sudden draft. Her face burned in humiliation and she quickly snatched up the pelt again to hold it close under her chin. 

"Good morning, Priestess." 

His voice sent shivers over her skin and suddenly unlocked her memories of the past night. She felt her cheeks flame brighter as she remembered the intimacy of those events, and the reason why she was here now, naked, with this strange man.

"Warrior Varyn." She acknowledged curtly.

The more she remembered, the more she wished she didn't. Her behavior, her forwardness, was better suited to some twitterpated young goose than the apprentice of the Priestess! She had not known the man two minutes, and yet she had given herself to him. Completely. Without thought. What was wrong with her? 

"I was beginning to think I would have to wake you." He said. "Yet you slept so sweetly, it seemed a shame."

"Yes, well, I was tired." She muttered, shrugging her ivory shoulders uncomfortably.

He grinned. "I can't imagine why."

She felt her blush deepen even further but she straightened her back indignantly. "We Healers on this island have been hard-pressed over the past year, most particularly these last few days. One rarely has the luxury of sleep anymore."

"Ahh..." He said, leaning forward intently. "And that is because you are at war, yes?" She nodded slowly and noted how his emerald eyes took on a predatory gleam. "Which is why you summoned me."

"Yes." She agreed. "You are a dragon warrior, born to fight. To one such as you, battling is as natural as breathing. Is this not so?"

He leaned backward to rest on his elbows, stretching out one leg casually. "My kind are rather good at killing, yes." His tone was also casual, but the predator's gleam was still in his eyes and even relaxed, he radiated power. To Allorah he seemed very much like one of the giant island cats, a mass of sleek muscle and dangerous intelligence.

"Well, unfortunately, my people are not so gifted." She smiled bitterly. "We are being overrun." 

"And you think I can change that?" He asked. There was no apparent malice in his voice; just curiosity.

Allorah cast her eyes down and shook her head. Ebony curls tumbled about her face. "I don't know what to think, Warrior. I can merely hope."

He didn't reply aloud, but Allorah could feel his eyes on her. They burned into her skin, and made her shift uncomfortably, all too aware of how exposed she was. She felt very vulnerable indeed, and still terribly confused as to what had made her act so rashly last night. It was true he possessed an Otherworldly attractiveness, but she had seen handsome men before, and she had not immediately gone to bed with them! No, last night, it had almost been as if another person was acting from her body, or as if she had been somehow bewitched...

That was it! Her violet eyes widened slightly and she sucked in a sharp breath. She had been under the influence of the spell! Allorah remembered the sensation of half-dreaming and now she recognized it for what it was: an enchantment. 

She suddenly felt horribly betrayed. By her senses that had succumbed so easily to the deception, and by Dannonae who had let her perform the ritual in ignorance. She felt her throat tighten with tears she would not allow herself to shed in front of Varyn. He who lounged so casually in front of her, studying her quizzically. He who had taken her innocence. She needed to get away from him for a little while until she could compose herself. 

Keeping the pelt covering her, she stood with some difficulty. Varyn stood too. 

"No." She said, shaking her head. "You stay here."

He raised one silver eyebrow. "You're going somewhere?"

"I..." She cast about for a reasonable excuse. "I'm just going to wash up. In a stream nearby. I won't be long, and then I will tell you all I know about the invaders." She promised.

He shrugged. "All right." But he remained standing.

Allorah decided to just go about her business anyway and began looking for her robe. She spotted it quickly, off to the side where she'd left it, and picked it up. To put it on without relinquishing her meager covering was a more difficult task. Realizing it would look far more ridiculous to attempt to keep herself completely covered throughout the process, and being unwilling to bring more attention to the situation by asking Varyn to turn around, she simply dropped the pelt and whipped the robe around her hastily, turning away from him in the process. She caught a glimpse of his expression before she turned: a very cat-like smile. It was enough to hurry her away.

As she'd said, the stream was not far, within hearing range of the ceremonial glade. A small waterfall sluiced into a quiet pool, with several moss-covered rocks that made excellent seats. Ferns surrounded it, but the trees were not packed so tightly here as to keep the place in shadow. Instead, the sunlight filtered gently in, heating the water to bearable temperatures. 

Allorah quickly stripped and waded in. The water was cold, but not frigid, and soon she was in to her thighs. Experience of the treacherousness of the weed-slick stones under her feet made her keep her balance against one of the larger rocks. 

She washed herself quickly, pausing only once when she noted the dried blood on her inner thighs. As the water came away pink, she felt her throat tighten again, but she swallowed the lump and continued her ablutions. To wash her hair, she made her way over to the waterfall and stood under the small protruding lip, letting the steady deluge pour over her. She closed her eyes and imagined that the chilled water was washing away her tension. The cold raised goose-flesh all over her ivory skin and made her small nipples into hard points, but she stayed under the stream for a long time. 

When at last she emerged, she felt calm, serene as she had not in a great while. The feeling evaporated as she noticed Varyn standing on the bank. 

He was different in the daylight. More alien. More commanding. The so-rare silver of his strangely spiked hair reflected the light, turning it to a bright corona that illuminated the rest of his long body with a white glow. Perhaps it was simply the angle of the sun, but in places, the light almost seemed to shimmer on his skin as it would off scales. His features were sharp, but magnetic. Even from as far away as he stood, she could discern the bright color of his cat eyes, and the hunger in them. She could not fail to notice his erect cock, either. 

Allorah averted her eyes, covering herself as best she could. She sat in the water to make her task easier.

"I told you I was just going to bathe." She said.

"So you did." He replied evenly.

When he continued to stare at her, she glanced at him again. "Do you intend to stand there much longer?"

He cocked his head slightly, smiling. "Perhaps. Why?"

She wrapped her arms tighter around her chest as she started to shiver. At long last, the combination of inactivity and the water's chill was getting to her. "Because it is rather cold in here." She hinted.

But instead of turning away, he started walking into the pool with her. Allorah jumped to her feet, alarmed. The sudden move made her slip on a slick stone, and she would have fallen if not for Varyn's hand catching her. He steadied her, then began to pull her toward him. 

"Wh-what are you doing?" She squeaked.

He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. The sensation of his warm, naked flesh coming in contact with her own chilled body set her nerves afire. "Warming you." 

She squirmed and pressed her palms against his chest, trying to push him away. "I don't want—" She began.

"Why do you fight me, Allorah?" His voice was soft, insistent.

She glared up at him, meeting his eyes even though she knew it was likely a mistake. They had turned a beautiful golden-green color, like afternoon sunlight on new growth, and the pupils seemed to be slightly pointed at the top and bottom. "I don't much like being bewitched." She growled. 

His mouth curled in amusement. "I did not bewitch you, Allorah."

"I didn't say you did."

"Then you are referring to the spell?"

"Yes. It has to be." She shoved against his chest again. "Now let me go!"

"The spell did not bewitch you either." She stopped struggling for a minute to look at him doubtfully.

"Then what did?"

He shrugged and let one of his hands trail gently down her spine. She sucked in a breath. "You were not bewitched at all."

She felt warmth and pleasure following in the wake of his hand but she ignored them. "Then what do you call this?" She demanded.

"This?" He smiled wickedly. "This is something altogether different."

As his hand dropped to her womanhood she became highly aware of his erection pressing into her belly. Allorah renewed her efforts to get free. This was getting out of hand. He pulled her closer, dipping his head to nuzzle her neck. One of his long fingers found its way inside her and she gasped. She was tender down there from last night's activities, but the contact of his hand reawakened the fire he had kindled and she felt herself weakening under the assault of desire.

"W-why are you doing this to me?" She whimpered.

"Because, my beautiful Priestess," he murmured, his breath warm at her ear, "We are bound, you and I."

"Bound?" Her voice quavered with repressed sensation.

He pressed another finger inside and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning. Her fingers curled unconsciously against his chest. "Yes. For we are spellsworn."

She opened her mouth again, but he caught her jaw between his fingers and made her look into his eyes. "No more questions." And he sealed her mouth with his own. 

Whatever she had been about to say flew from her mind as she was lost in the hungry dance of tongues and teeth and lips. He used alternately gentle and forceful strokes of his tongue, and a steady pumping of his fingers in and out of her, to break down her last resistances until she was plaint in his arms.

When he finally broke the kiss, she sighed at the loss. She dreamily stretched up on tiptoe, trying to capture his lips again, but he kept his face teasingly out of reach, close enough to feel his breath, but not quite touching. In frustration, she slid her hands from his chest up to his neck, intending to hold him in place, but he removed his fingers from her pussy and caught her wrists easily. She whined softly in protest and bucked her hips against his leg. He merely smiled and kissed her lightly before using his grip on her arms to turn her around. 

Allorah could feel how hard he was against the small of her back. One of his hands was now pressed firmly against her abdomen, while the other kept her arms tucked close to her chest. Her sensitive nipples were being pressed against her forearms at every breath and this new stimulation made her grind back into him. Gods, she wanted him.

Abruptly, Varyn let go of her wrists and grabbed the base of his cock. He used his other hand to still her wiggling, and to keep her at the right angle as he guided himself to her entrance. For a moment, they both paused, relishing the charge of the moment, before he slowly slid all of himself inside her. 

Once again she felt the pleasurably painful sensation of being stretched to capacity. He fit within her so perfectly, so closely, that she could feel his heartbeat throbbing against her walls from his cock. His now free hand rose to her breast where he rolled the nipple between his fingers. He waited like that for a few breaths, letting her take in the tide of feeling, then began slowly rocking in and out. This new angle made him rub almost constantly against a highly sensitive spot on the front of her pussy walls, and it quickly had her moaning in dizzied pleasure. 

The hand on her breast slipped across her chest to pinch and roll her other nipple, while his right hand trailed down to where they were joined. With an ease that usually comes with long familiarity, he found her clit and gently pinched that too. Allorah cried out wordlessly. He began rubbing in time with his thrusts, tormenting her inside and out.

The barrage of sensations and the slow pace were driving her wild. In a haze of desire, she reached as far back as she could with one arm and grabbed his hip, trying to pull him further inside. She arched her back wantonly, pressing her breasts into his arm, and pushed her pelvis back into him. She was rewarded as he thrust in a little harder. Her shallow breath hitched and released with a sighing whimper. 

As if this was the signal he needed, Varyn picked up speed, keeping the out-strokes leisurely and sensual, but driving in hard. Every time he shoved in, it put delicious pressure on that special place inside her, and she let out a small cry. His rubbing on her button got faster, he pinched her nipple harder. Allorah felt the swirling heat of her pleasure coalescing to the imminent explosion of her climax and knew he was growing close as well. There was a low growl rumbling in his chest, and his breathing was as ragged as her own. 

As they drew nearer to their mutual release, his pace quickened further. He began driving in and out with a ferocity that reminded her of last night and she clutched his arm desperately. Her nails dug into his skin and his grip on her breast grew painful, but they didn't care. She came suddenly, and she was unprepared for the magnitude of it. It was as if golden flare detonated in her middle, rushing outward to her extremities in tingles that were charged with lightning. She felt herself arch against him, then go limp as her pussy clenched again and again around his wonderful, powerful cock. And as strong as he was, he could hold out no longer. Allorah felt him swell even further and throb inside her, as his liquid warmth hit her womb. In the one part of her that was not focused on the squeezing spasms of her core, she was grateful for the strength of his arms holding her up, else she surely would have fallen. 

They both came back down slowly, winded and trembling with the aftermath of their ecstasy. Allorah gradually became aware of their surroundings again. They still stood in the middle of the little pool, and the waterfall poured down gently with its soothing, constant sound. Varyn breathed hard against her back, and his arms around her were warm in contrast to the cold of the water. The sun had not changed; though it had seemed an age, it could not have been more than ten minutes they had spent in the realm of passion. 

And as her sense of the real world returned, so did her logical mind, with all its condemnations and disapproval. She had done it again. Coupled with this man who she barely knew. And if he was to be believed, there had been no enchantment to make her do anything. It had been her own doing. She thought she ought to feel ashamed, but the intensity of her orgasm had drained her, and all she felt was a sort of resignation. 

Allorah let her arms fall to her sides, then, when Varyn showed no sign of releasing her on his own, she gently pried his arm from around her chest, and lifted his other hand from her loins. As she stepped away somewhat awkwardly, she felt him slide from inside her and was surprised by how empty she felt without him. She tried to distract herself from the feeling by quickly rinsing herself again under the falls then wading out of the pool to dry off. She realized belatedly that the only thing she had with which to dry herself was her sheer robe. 

Sighing, Allorah sat down on the grassy bank. She'd been naked all morning, and he'd already seen —and touched— all there was to see. Fifteen minutes more nakedness wouldn't hurt. He strode out of the water as well, and sat down beside her. Close, but not touching. To keep her gaze from wandering to him, she began finger-combing her wet hair. 

"What did you mean by 'spellsworn?'" She eventually asked.

He stretched languidly and lay back, his hands resting behind his head. "There was an ancient pact between our two peoples, you know. My kind swore to always come to your aid when called. And in return, your people gave their promise to be the guardians and caretakers of this land, for it holds great importance to both our worlds." 

"The ritual you performed," he continued, "The summoning, is the manifestation of that agreement. Just as our two peoples are bound by the promise our ancestors made, so too are you and I bound individually to one another, by the spell itself."

"So I was bewitched!" She cried.

"No. It is not that sort of spell." He rolled his head to the side and looked at her intently. "Think of it more as a marriage of sorts."

She stared at him for a moment. His eyes were lit by a golden fire, and the pupils were more than slightly pointed now. It reminded her of a question that had been bothering her since she'd first seen him, and she used it as a way of changing the unsettling direction of the conversation.

"If you are a dragon, why do you look so human?" 

He smiled. "Because you yourself are human. I did not wish to frighten you away with my natural form."

She narrowed her eyes. "So this is a mere disguise."

"It is an aspect of myself; there is no falsehood in it. This form is as much me as my more... intimidating appearances."

"Show me, then."

His expression grew serious. "Perhaps later." He said and rose to his feet. He offered his hand to her. "We should go. Apparently, I have an enemy to rout."

Allorah looked at his hand then scooped up her robe and stood on her own. She was afraid to touch him again, lest she be overtaken by the mysterious power he had over her. In the time they'd sat, she had grown dry enough to don the robe, which she did hastily. She kept her eyes from his and gestured for him to follow her as she went back to the glade. 

It was a quick process to gather up what tools she had used for the ritual the night before and put out the smoldering remains of the fire. She had Varyn keep the cat skin and use it as something to wrap around his nudity. He looked amused at her insistence, but tied it cleverly around his waist and helped her carry some of the other items. The remaining wax lines were scuffed away and the incantation of completion was said. The last logs, they left. 

When they had finished, Allorah took one more look around the now-peaceful glade and, sighing, turned to lead them home. 



The Warrior Ch. 03



CHAPTER 3: Heartland

As they walked, Allorah began telling Varyn what she knew of the strange invaders that plagued them. When they had arrived, when the aggressions started, what was know about their customs, an estimate of their population. From time to time, Varyn interjected a question, mostly pertaining to their favored weaponry, or what she assumed to be questions about their strategies. She could only offer vague assistance here, for she had never seen an actual battle; only the aftermath. There wasn't much to tell anyway, for the foreigners remained nearly as much of a mystery as when they had first arrived. 

After quickly exhausting her store of knowledge, they lapsed into silence. Allorah darted glances at her companion who tread the ground with feet as silent as the island cats he so resembled in manner. To all appearances, he was completely at ease, yet Allorah had the distinct impression he was acutely aware of everything around him, and ready to spring to action at the least notice. 

She was grateful he had no cause to do so over the course of their trek. The morning forest was peaceful and lovely and she felt herself relaxing as they neared the village. 

It therefore came as a shock when three men suddenly burst from the foliage. Varyn stopped as she did, and she couldn't tell if he had purposely placed himself in between her and the men, or if that just happened to be where he'd halted. Her heart was hammering at the abrupt encounter, but from the casual lines of his back, he seemed unfazed. 

The men slowly arrayed themselves in a semi-circle, blocking the way ahead. They were covered from crown to toe in furs, with nondescript cloth masking all but their eyes from view. Each of them held a spear with steady hands and had a bow slung across their backs. 

The one in the center spoke. "Declare yourself. Who are you that dares tread this sacred ground?"

Allorah recognized the voice at the same time she realized that they didn't know she was present. All their attention was focused upon Varyn who had made no sign of answering. His posture remained easy, but the men began shifting aggressively, perhaps interpreting his silence as an indication of hostility.

"Geldan!" She called quickly, and before anyone could react she stepped from behind Varyn to address them. The center one's eyes widened above his mask. 

"Allorah?" He pulled the cloth away from his face and stared at her. She noticed his eyes travel up and down her body hungrily, aware that the sunlight must make her garment practically invisible. She did her best to not think about that, but she unconsciously clutched the objects she carried so that they covered her chest. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you." She countered. "Since when have Hunters sought their prey on hallowed land?"

His eyes were troubled, but his voice, when he answered, held anger and a fierceness that worried her. "Since the invaders tried to flank us last night by sneaking through these very same woods."

Her stomach knotted, self-consciousness forgotten. "Did they reach the village?" She asked anxiously.

He shook his head. "We detected them before they got very far and were able to drive them away. But the Elders suspect they will try again, so Hunters have been sent out to make sure they do not catch us unawares." He suddenly seemed to remember Varyn's presence and his face hardened. "Who is he?"

Allorah glanced at Varyn, her gaze lingering as she saw him as they would. Tall, fair-haired, aloof, and very foreign. With the cat-skin as his only clothing, he should have looked ridiculous, but something about the way he carried himself, or the almost unnatural stillness about him turned the effect into something intimidating. When he showed no intention to answer for himself, Allorah turned back to the others.

"This is the Warrior Varyn." She stated solemnly. "He is here to aid us."

The two men with Geldan made noises of disbelief. He motioned them to silence, but his face was all doubt. "To aid us." He repeated, staring at Varyn suspiciously. "And how do you know one such as him will not betray us instead?"

Allorah drew herself up indignantly. "I know, Hunter Geldan, because I am the one who summoned him to help us."

"And just where did you summon him from?" The suspicion still lay heavily in his tone. Allorah felt her patience coming to an end. She was tired, hungry, worried about her home, and sore in highly embarrassing places. She let her voice sharpen, and her gaze chill.

"That is the Priesthood's affair, Geldan. And while I appreciate your caution, I will not tolerate being interrogated. Is that clear?" He seemed first surprised at the edge in her voice, then shamed by her words. His gaze dropped and he bowed his head respectfully.

"Yes. Please accept my apologies."

She let the silence hang heavy for a moment before nodding. She glanced around at the men and back to Geldan who seemed to be their chosen leader. "Perhaps we can continue this conversation when you return to the village? I find my need for food and rest to be rather pressing, so if you'll excuse us..."

"By yourself?" He cut in. "There could still be invaders about."

"She is safe with me." Varyn spoke quietly, but the timbre of his voice held a trace of command. It seemed to startle the men, as if in his silence, they had almost forgotten he was there. Allorah realized his words carried a strange accent which she had not noticed in speaking with him before, but put it aside for later thought as she waited to see how Geldan would respond. 

His mouth thinned in displeasure. "Be that as it may, stranger, the trespass of the invaders onto these lands marks this as a time of danger." His tone made little distinction between the words "stranger" and "invader," letting it be known that he considered the two practically the same thing. "It would ease my conscience if were I to accompany you both back to the village."

"What of your hunt?" Allorah interjected, a little irritated at his stubborn suspicion. 

"My men will continue without me." Though he spoke to her, his eyes continue to regard Varyn. She sighed. There seemed no point in arguing with him until she'd eaten and rested.

"Fine. Shall we go, then?" 

He nodded once. "I will be but a minute. You should go ahead." Allorah raised an eyebrow, but he'd already turned to his men and was in murmured conference with them. 

"Come," Varyn said. His face was unreadable, his eyes intent. She noted before stepping forward to lead the way, that his eyes had changed back to that startling pure emerald color, and his pupils were once again round. 

There were no definitive paths in this part of the forest, but she chose a route that was wide enough for them to travel abreast of one another. The almost tangible pressure of his gaze when he was behind her made her uncomfortable. At least when he was beside her, she could see when he was watching her. 

Geldan joined them shortly, walking slightly behind. None of them made any attempts at conversation, just watched the surrounding greenery. Allorah got the distinct impression that two men were using this time to assess one another, though she couldn't be sure what they were measuring. One of the times she glanced at Geldan, she saw him regarding Varyn with a frown, but he looked away almost as soon as she'd read his expression. And Varyn, though he never actually looked at Geldan, nevertheless seemed to be aware of, and returning the silent inspection. The whole thing put Allorah's nerves on edge, so when the first delicate tree-bridge appeared far overhead, she let loose an internal sigh of relief. 

Geldan walked them a short distance more into the village before halting. "I must return to my men. I will leave you here."

Allorah stopped too, as did Varyn. "Thank you for the escort, Hunter." He nodded.

"You're welcome." He unexpectedly took her hand, speaking low. "Be careful, Allorah. These are very dangerous times, and treachery often wears friendship's face." His eyes darted to Varyn who was idly studying the arboreal structures. She felt her irritation swell again. He just would not let it the matter rest.

"Geldan, I thought I made it clear that he is here to—" 

"You did." She raised an eyebrow at the interruption, but he continued before she had a chance to speak. "I just ask that you take care, regardless. Please."

She searched his dark grey eyes and found only earnest concern. Slowly she nodded. He looked relieved. Then the expression was gone as he donned his stoic Hunter's face. He let her hand drop and stepped back. 

"Good day to you both. May the Gods watch over you."

"And you, Hunter."

He glanced once more at Varyn then turned on his heel and began the hike back to his men. She watched him go, troubled and a little confused by his words.

"Priestess," Varyn's bass murmur brought her back to the present.

"Um, Varyn," she began, uncomfortable as she realized she'd been remiss in correcting his mistaken impression of her rank, "You should know... I am merely an apprentice. Not a full priestess." She felt a slight blush color her cheeks in embarrassment. 

He looked at her for a moment then replied with certainty. "Yes you are."

She shook her head. "No. I realize I may have lead you to believe that, but I never actually said—"

"You didn't need to. Your abilities speak for themselves."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Only an accomplished priestess can perform the Summoning. It would be impossible for any apprentice."

"He is right, you know." Allorah turned quickly to the new speaker. It was Dannonae, looking frailer and wearier than ever. Still, she wore a large smile and her voice was filled with warmth. She walked forward and pulled her into a quick hug, whispering in her ear, "You did it, Allorah. I'm so proud of you!" 

Releasing her, she faced Varyn. "And you are the Warrior." To Allorah's astonishment, she began lowering herself stiffly to her knees. "It is an honor to meet you."

"No, Old Mother," he said, gently taking her elbows and raising her up, "Do not kneel to me. The honor is mine." He bowed his head and his face showed genuine respect. Dannonae returned the nod and when they both looked up they seemed to share some unspoken communication. 

Allorah was speechless. She had never seen Dannonae bow to anyone in her entire life, and up until seeing it, would have hardly believed it possible of the proud Varyn. Her face must have reflected her surprise, because the two of them turned an inquisitive eye on her. Dannonae was the first to break the silence.

"Now, there are many questions I would like to ask you, and I'm sure, Warrior, that there are things of your own you would like to know. But perhaps first we should all adjourn to a more comfortable location? Surely you both must be hungry."

"Indeed, Old Mother." His lips curved in a small smile that when he glanced in Allorah's direction, suggested that his hunger wasn't entirely for foodstuffs. Allorah felt herself flushing and she looked anxiously to see if Dannonae had noticed, but she had already started leading them to one of the many lifts that gave access to the arboreal structures. 

Though there were several ramps that would lead to the village proper, they were all located in the middle of the town, most of around the communal fire. These spiraling walkways were wound about the enormous trunks of the trees, landings giving access along the way to rooms built right into the tree trunks. At the summit of the great ramps were the paths and suspended platforms that rested in the sheltering boughs of the wooden giants. Fragile-seeming bridges connected the collections of tree-houses, so that from the ground, looking up, the village had the appearance of a giant spider-web hanging almost a hundred and fifty paces in the air.

However, the village being as large as it was, it was not particularly practical for the only access to the ground –and the small gardens nestled between the tree roots— to be from the very center of the town. So the inhabitants had constructed small, pulley-operated lifts much more conveniently placed in each house-harboring tree. 

Dannonae led them to the closest one and closed the little gate as soon as all three of them were inside. Because of the clever design of the lifts, Dannonae had no trouble operating the winch on the side of the compartment that slowly caused them to rise into the treetops, even with three people inside. 

The little platform rose slowly, and Allorah took the opportunity to survey her home. There were no signs of any battles having taken place here, no sign of war or danger at all, aside from the unusual lack of people on the ground. Under peaceful circumstances, at this time of day most of the village would be on the ground, tending to their gardens or searching for mushrooms and roots, or sharing each other's company as they gathered the silken strands of bark from special trees that they would later spin into thread for cloth. Others, mostly men, would be deeper in the forest hunting game, or out in little boats that hugged the coast while they fished. 

Perhaps if she were a stranger to this place, ignorant of how it used to be, she would have considered its present state lovely. As it was, the deserted floor was highly unsettling and it left a sting of grief in her heart. She rested the hand unburdened with the spell's materials on the railing, her hair falling forward around her face as she bowed her head.

It was early afternoon now, and the sun had traded its sparkling white quality for a clear lightness that came filtered through the trees as a soft green glow. The summer air was delicious, perfectly pleasant beneath the trees, filled with the soft creak of rope and timber that was omnipresent in the treetop village. There was a slight dampness here and there from last night's storm, saturating the colors and making them brilliant. It should have been a wonderful day, but Allorah knew better. 

A warm hand covered hers on the railing. She looked at the long, elegant fingers and the powerful forearm it was attached to, then up to Varyn's face. He was standing beside her, and like her had been studying the forest floor. Feeling her gaze on him, he looked down at her, his emerald eyes somber. 

It was a chaste gesture, one of consolation, but somehow the simple touch loosed a pleasurable warmth through her body, and a delicate flutter in her stomach. A part of her mind bristled in rebellion to her reaction, declaring it would not allow itself to be put under his mysterious influence again. She looked down again at the hand that cupped hers so carefully and after a moment, let it stay. 

At last they reached the top and Varyn's hand left hers. With it, the warmth in her body lessened, but didn't leave completely. Dannonae led the way again, though Allorah could have just as easily. Still, she was content to follow and watch as Varyn took in the unique sights of their little world in the trees. A mild interest colored his features and she got the impression that he was committing everything to memory. It was several more minutes of traveling in silence before they reached the ramp that led to their final destination. 

It was the biggest tree in the village, the biggest on the island. So wide around, fifty men couldn't encircled it with outstretched arms, and so tall that its crown rose right up through the canopy surrounding it. It took another spiraling walkway around its enormous trunk to reach the collection of rooms that had been the home of the island's priestesses for as long as could be remembered. The ramp wasn't steep, but it was lengthy. In her state of exhaustion, Allorah found the climb far more strenuous than usual and sighed in relief when they climbed the final step-ladder and reached the balcony of the house. 

Up so high, there was nearly always a breeze blowing in off the sea. The air held a twinge of salt, tempered by the mellower scents of the earth, and the view stretched unlimited all around, particularly clear now after the storm. It was so clear that in pausing to take in the view, Allorah could even see the interruption in the gentle green blanket of forest that was the invaders' settlement to the north. Anger rose unbidden at the sight of the verdant land turned to a drab brown, so that she turned away quickly and went into the house. Varyn followed.

Aside from its sheer magnitude, there was another thing that made this tree so unusual: the trunk continued upwards, far more slender now at its peak, but other, thick branches fanned out around it, much like a flower in blossom. This allowed for a sizable structure to be built upon it. One main room with small cooking and dining areas, two bedrooms, and a secret room below all this, created from the natural cavern where the branches met trunk. The delectable smell of simmering stew filled the house and distracted Allorah from her fury. There would be time enough later for that, she told herself. 

No one spoke much during the meal, and when they were finished, Dannonae gathered the dishes to clean later, then turned back to them. 

"I'll see what I can do about getting you some proper clothing, Warrior." She looked him up and down and said half to herself, "Though your hight may complicate things a little..." She smiled brightly, shaking herself free of her thoughts. "In the mean time, please make yourself at home. I will be back shortly."

Allorah watched her go with something close to resentment. There she went, just leaving her alone with him, to fend for herself. Well, he'd have to take care of himself now, because she was going to go get dressed in something other than the flimsy robe. It was entirely too transparent to continue wearing. 

She rose from the table without looking at him, though she knew he was watching her, lounging casually in his chair with his arms crossed. Without saying anything, she walked to her room and quietly shut the door. 

She leaned her head back against its rough surface, breathing deep and letting her silly heart steady its rhythm. The room was simple in decoration, a wide bed that had been present when she first came to live here, a chest at its foot containing her clothes and few personal items, and a small table and chair next to the door across the room that led out to her own little balcony. One window on the wall next to the bed and another over the table let in light that shifted and swayed in time with the sun-dazzled leaves right outside. It was not much, but it was hers. Her personal haven. 

Making her way to the chest, she noticed gratefully that Dannonae had left her some wash-water in a pitcher on her table. She still felt mostly clean from her bath earlier that morning, but long habit and personal tidiness prompted her to take advantage of the offering anyway. 

The robe whispered to the ground and she unceremoniously kicked it aside. Good riddance to the blasted thing. A splash of water on her face helped sooth the subtle burning that lingered in her body. But it didn't go away. It seemed focused now at that secret place between her legs that Varyn had wreaked so much havoc with. A little embarrassed, she sat on the chair and spread her knees, gingerly touching. There was a stickiness there, but it was not blood, as she'd feared it might be. It had an... unusual smell. Not unpleasant, merely unfamiliar. She considered it a moment before wetting the wash-cloth beside the pitcher and using it to clean the stickiness away. 

The cool and the slight roughness of the cloth felt surprisingly good there. It seemed to ease the residual ache in those parts, and it added something new as well. After a few wipes, she figured she had probably cleaned herself sufficiently, but the sensation was so pleasant that she kept rubbing anyway. Sighing, she let her eyes close, drawing the cloth up and down almost lazily. 




The Warrior Ch. 03



The cloth was warming now, as it absorbed the heat that was again rising in her, but little trickles of water dripped lightly down her legs, tickling and awakening those nerves. She liked the feeling, so temporarily removing the cloth from her mound, she brought it up to her breasts and squeezed it slightly. Sliding deliciously over her skin, the water seemed to kiss and caress its way down her sensitized breasts and stomach, and the slight breeze coming in through the windows turned the rivulets into cool lines crisscrossing her heated flesh. 

She felt herself slipping into an almost trance-like state. It shut out the calculating part of her mind before it could remind her of the two other instances she had felt such sensations. It encouraged her body to produce its own wetness to mingle with the water. It kept her from noticing the silent figure in her doorway until she was brought back to reality by the sound of his voice.

"Allorah." He said. One word and a swirl of emotions therein. 

Her eyes flew open and the cloth slapped to the floor in her shock. She felt a different sort of heat flood her face, acutely aware now of what he had caught her doing. Explanations, accusations, and dismissals tangled in her throat, so that there was nothing to prevent him from closing the distance between them. 

His eyes locked with hers and again they seemed to glow golden. Her thoughts, her humiliation, dissolved under that stare. She scarcely knew where she was when she took his offered hand and allowed him to draw her to her feet. The strange, masculine scent of him filled her lungs. The very power of him left her weak. Gazing at her steadily, he used one hand to untie the cat-skin around his waist and tossed it away. They stood naked, not touching at all save for her hand in his, but the air between them should have been shimmering with the intensity of their attention. 

Gently, as if he were handling something precious and fragile, he took her other hand and guided it to his erection. Though she trembled, she did not flinch away. His skin felt like satin under her fingertips, feverishly hot and firm. She realized that she had never touched him there before and it seemed silly to have waited this long. Growing bolder, she ran her fingers along its length. then wrapped her hand around it. Her fingers couldn't quite reach around completely. She experimentally dragged her curled fingers up and down and up again, feeling the shape of the head and rubbing her thumb along the underside. The lids of his eyes sank down a fraction, and a sound came from his chest that was almost like a purr. She let her thumb trace and tease the small slit at the very tip, lightly scratching it with her nail. 

He pulled her toward him then. He captured her lips with his sweetly, and she could taste the berry wine on them that they'd had with the stew. It seemed a very different sort of kiss than at any time before. Tender and welcoming and lacking in any of the urgency that had been present both the other times. She felt herself kiss him back. 

Turning, they fell onto the bed, her underneath. His large hands cupped her face. He smoothed away a raven curl with his thumb, brushing his lips over the newly exposed skin, watching her reaction. Her tongue caught the corner of his mouth, and it curved upwards, pleased. She remembered one of her hands was free, and brought it up to touch his hair. The cropped silver spikes were silky and thick, just like the coat of a cat. Twining her fingers through it, she used the grip to pull him down to her mouth. 

Any urgency in the kiss was from her now. With the fire in her body intensifying rapidly, she needed release, and she needed it soon. Her little hand was still around his pulsing length and she knew what she wanted to do with it. Allorah spread her legs, letting him settle between them, then wriggled down the bed until the head of his cock touched her lust-slick nether lips. Raising her hips high, she managed to get the head of him inside, but it wasn't enough. She made a small noise of frustration and looked up at him. His eyes seemed to smile and say, "Let me help you with that."

He took one of his arms and tucked it under the small of her back, sliding all the way inside at last as he pulled their bodies close. Her eyes fluttered closed and a sigh escaped her. If it was possible, he seemed to fit even more snugly than before, or maybe it was just the way he was holding her. Cherishing, protecting. His hips started to rock gently, not enough to really pull out very far, but like a slow tide. Ebbing and flowing and changing the pressure. The presence of him inside made her aware of muscles she never thought about, and she gave an experimental squeeze. Instantly his hips gave a little jerk forward, and his breath caught before returning again to the steady rhythm he maintained. It pleased her to learn that she had such an effect on him while it felt so good to her, so she did it again, clenching a little longer this time. His breath shuddered out and he rewarded her with a roll of his pelvis. 

"Aaah!" She cried. His other hand slipped under her head, tangling his fingers in her hair. With the cry still fresh on her lips he sealed their mouths. The low purr of his pleasure mingled with her breath.

He pulled his cock out a little more now, just for variation, but the pace stayed steady. Every time he pushed in, she could feel the length of him slide along her cunt and press against her cervix, stopping right before the point of pain. She wrapped both arms about his neck and tried matching his rhythm. A soft, wet sound accompanied his unhurried thrusts into her depths, merging with both their breathing. Her heart took up the slow tempo, and she knew his did the same from the constant throb of his thick cock buried deep inside her pussy. She was highly aware of her slightly dampened skin that was in constant contact with his nude body, rubbing and clinging. With her eyes closed, the feelings seemed magnified, and the erotic sound of him pushing into her dripping cunt inflamed her passion. But she wanted to see his face, determine if he too was teetering on the edge of a wonderful abyss. 

She looked up at him, and paused. His gold-green eyes captured her, and in them she saw something that both confused and frightened her with its intensity. Though her desire was undiminished, and every unfaltering stroke filled her with pleasure, that look stirred her calculating mind. It told her that he had seduced her, that his seduction granted him power over her. She wanted the thought to go away and leave her to the sweet sensations radiating from her aching core, but she could not shake the doubt that her response was a sign of his power manifesting itself already. He suddenly slowed and he told her quietly, "You need only say it, and I will stop. I would never force you." His low voice surprised her both in its tenderness and by how controlled it was. 

And just as quickly the calculating thoughts went away, banished by his words. She tightened her arms around his neck and kissed him fiercely. She wanted this. Her hips took up the movement where she'd left off. "Don't stop." She whispered against his lips. 

His acknowledgment came in the form of a deep thrust ending with a small circular motion that stimulated every part of her slickened channel. She moaned, arching her breasts harder against his chest. Her legs wrapped around his as she ground her pussy harder onto his enormous prick, wringing blissful thrills from her clit as it rubbed against his pelvic bone. Her vaginal muscles clenched again and he felt so huge inside her. She felt her orgasm approaching as if from a great distance, gathering power from each thrust into her cunt, each breath that dragged her nipples along his muscular chest. It finally crested over her in a great wave, vast and mighty, sweeping away everything but her awareness of the sensations. It might have taken that too, but Varyn held her tight as she cried out in sobbing release, spasming around his cock and clutching his body as if she might drown. He waited to begin again until her eyes focused on his once more. It only took a few more strokes inside her supersensitive sex for the pleasure to peak again, and as the hot splash of his seed hit her cervix, she felt herself climaxing a second time. His body tensed, his forehead against hers, their mouths open and moaning. He pumped burst after burst into her and her rippling pussy milked him for all he had. 

They were still for a time after that, simply catching their breath together. Varyn raised his head slightly and looked down at her, his expression attentive. He kissed her again softly. It was the first kiss he'd ever given her after the actual act, and it somehow seemed to carry more weight because of it. 

Pulling out, he shifted to lie on his side next to her. Allorah felt her head beginning to clear from the intoxicating cloud of desire. She waited for the critical voice to start berating her for submitting again, but it was strangely silent. Shouldn't she be feeling something? This was the third time, and she'd not even known him a full day. Shouldn't she feel guilty about that? Or angry? Yet all she felt was a curious sort of satisfaction, as if lying here in his arms was exactly what she should be doing. 

They watched each other. 

Allorah finally ended the silent inspection when she shivered and dropped her eyes. Despite the comfortable heat of his flesh, she had cooled significantly from lying still, and the breeze playing through the room was chilling to her naked body. 

"I should get dressed." She sat up and his arms relaxed to let her. Though she knew his eyes were on her as she went the to chest and pulled out a set of clothes, this time she felt no discomfort in it. 

She donned the simple garments quickly: a white shirt that was laced at the modest neckline and came all the way down to her knees, a thick floor-length grey skirt, and a dark green sash tied about her slim waist. In the traditional garb of her people, she felt more sure of herself than she had since Dannonae first told her of the Summoning spell. Speaking of Dannonae...

"You should cover up as well," she told Varyn. "Priestess Dannonae will likely return soon."

The side of his mouth curled in a little smile. "And I wouldn't want to offend her sensibilities, now would I?"

Allorah felt her own lips twitch at the thought of Dannonae's reaction to such a sight. "No, you probably don't."

As he rose and collected the discarded cat pelt, she quickly combed her hair and began loosely braiding it. By the time she had tied it off with a thin strip of cloth, he was covered and waiting. She led him into the main room again where he resumed his former seat and she put the kettle on for some tea to invigorate herself. 

She would need the brew to give her the energy for the tasks ahead. There was still plenty of daytime left, and much yet to do. Yes, she had somehow managed to summon this warrior to aid them in their war, but that did not heal the many wounded ones that only she and the old Priestess had the skill to mend, and it had not yet secured their victory. Allorah tried to think optimistically; Varyn's presence could very well be the turning point of this war. Still, she couldn't quite dislodge the dread rooted in her gut. Something told her this was only the beginning...



The Warrior Ch. 04



CHAPTER 4: The Challenge and The Vision

Pausing a moment to sweep a stray curl out of her face with the back of her hand, Allorah briefly scanned the hall. Most of the rectangular space was taken up with the rows of pallets on either side, nearly all of them occupied by injured men. It was the largest room in the village, originally built for the assembly of the Council of Elders and designed to hold a throng of spectators. At the moment, however, it served as a makeshift hospital. There had to be at least fifty men here, but Allorah felt a swell of pride knowing she had already checked on and treated more than half of them. Dannonae was busy caring for the other half, and soon they would be able to leave matters in the hands of one of the more medically skillful village women and go back home for some much-needed rest. 

She was bone-weary, and frequently smothered yawns, irritably blinking away the moisture when her eyes watered in reaction. It seemed amazing to her that her eyes could still feel so grainy even with all the yawn-induced tears. 

Bending back to her current patient, she finished wrapping the new dressing around his thigh and tied it off adeptly. Allorah let her eyes close for a moment and murmured a short prayer for his fast recovery. When she opened them again, the man was looking up at her, a grateful smile on his mouth. 

"Thank you, Allorah. You are surely a blessing sent to us from the Gods."

Allorah made a gentle tsking noise but smiled down at him. "You're too kind, Kalo. I am merely doing my job."

His expression turned more serious. "Still, you do so much. Perhaps too much. You mustn't push yourself too hard."

"I won't." She told him. He didn't look convinced. 

"Promise a poor, wounded man that you will take care of yourself?" He looked so pitiful that Allorah couldn't help but chuckle and nod her assent. 

"I promise. I am nearly finished here, and then I will rest a while." 

With a contented sigh, he relaxed back into his pillow and Allorah patted his wrist and rose to her feet. She was careful to conceal the dizzy wave that swept over her before moving to the next man needing her attention.

It was over an hour more before she was through. The torches had been lit to ward off the encroaching gloom of evening and the sounds of people readying the communal fire drifted up through the branches. Even with the constant danger from the invaders, the townsfolk had deemed fireside time so essential to maintaining and reinforcing their bonds as a community, that they risked it every night. The only change was the absence of those Hunters assigned as sentries at posts all around the village. If the foreigners attempted an attack, they would warn those around the fire in time to get them to safety. 

Allorah stretched and rolled her shoulders. Her eyes roamed over the resting men until they alighted on Varyn. Dannonae had somehow managed to find him a set of clothes that mostly fit, though the knee-length shirt was a little tight over his broad shoulders, and the trousers just a hair too short. They had not managed to find any boots that would accommodate his large feet, so he went without, but he didn't seem to mind and it was close enough to work until they came up with something better. So garbed, he had opted to join the two of them as they went about their healing duties, though he made no move to help. Instead, he had occupied himself by talking quietly with those men who were alert enough to do so. Allorah had caught wisps of their conversations and it seemed he was questioning them closely about the martial abilities of the enemy. Since it seemed to bring a certain level of comfort to the men, she was glad he had found something to do other than watch her, because she was worried that his gaze would cause stray thoughts of their recent encounter to surface and distract her. 

Her body still seemed to thrum with physical memory of it, though her demanding afternoon had buried the effect somewhat. But every time she looked in his direction, a faint pulse echoed from her core, reminding her. A soft throb came from her aching nether region just thinking about it. It made her want to reach down there and massage the ache out... 

Allorah realized the direction of her thoughts with a start and hid her blush by turning away from the room to collect her personal healing items. She must be more tired than she'd thought to be thinking such things. 

As she turned back to the room with renewed composure, Dannonae stood from what she was doing and made her way over. "We've both done enough for one day, I think. You are going home, then?"

"I thought I'd first stop by the fire and perhaps bring the Warrior with me." She replied. "Maybe his presence will bring people some hope." 

Dannonae nodded. "Good idea. And if him being there doesn't reassure them, your presence certainly will." Allorah frowned slightly in question. Dannonae smiled. "It is the nature of being a Priestess, my dear. People see you as not only a spiritual leader, but a figure they can draw comfort from, and rally to, in times of distress. Your strength gives them strength in turn."

"I hear your words..." She said slowly. "But surely they don't yet see me that way?"

"Of course they do." Dannonae asserted. "They saw you as a Priestess from the first time you joined them at that fire at the age of fifteen. And that impression has only been strengthened over the years, especially by how you've served since the fighting began." 

The old Priestess saw her expression of doubt and told her, "When you go down to the fire tonight, watch them. Notice how they treat you, how they watch you, subtly, yet attentively. And see what your observations tell you."

Allorah nodded. "Where are you going then? To bed I hope..." She trailed off, giving the older woman a stern look. Dannonae chuckled.

"Doubt yourself you may, but that expression is the mark of a genuine Priestess! Ah, I've taught you well..." They shared a grin before Dannonae sobered, patting her hand. "I will go to bed this night, I promise. But first I must pray. I fear with all the commotion over the invaders' newest, boldest move, I may not get another chance anytime close to the full moon."

"Oh. I understand, Mother."

Another pat on her hand, and Dannonae turned to go. "Gods be with you, Priestess." Allorah called gently. Dannonae looked over her shoulder, a small smile on her lips.

"And you... Priestess."

Shaking her head bemusedly, Allorah went the opposite way over to Varyn. He watched her approach then politely excused himself from his conversation with one of the patients. He nodded his agreement to join her at the communal fire and the two of them made their way out of the long building and down the ramps to the forest floor. 

Under the trees, night came early and quickly, bringing a chill, that coupled with the residual dampness from the storm, made her glad of the blazing warmth of the fire. There was a large crowd gathered already, sitting and eating and talking. As Allorah came into the circle of firelight, people hailed her, letting her through and clearing a seat close to the flames. Because of Dannonae's comments, she was aware of the respectful attention that everyone paid her. Then someone noticed Varyn. 

Several of the men stood quickly, their bodies tense, readying themselves for a fight. Allorah spoke quickly to prevent any violence.

"Everyone! This is the Warrior Varyn. I have brought him here in the hope that he will be able to assist us in our fight against the invaders."

There was quiet for a minute as her words sank in. The men standing, all of whom she saw were Hunters, looked at one another, frowning. She noted though, that the frowns were more worried than doubtful, and after a moment they all nodded in Varyn's direction and took their seats again. She silently thanked Dannonae for being right, for surely if these people didn't hold her in high regard, that would not have gone over nearly so well. Conversations resumed slowly, at a quieter level than before. Someone offered Allorah a bowl filled with grilled fish and vegetables and after a tiny hesitation, handed one to Varyn as well. 

As she ate, she continued to watch the villagers' reactions. There were many covert glances stolen at him, and some obvious ones, but all of them seemed to be curious in nature, as opposed to suspicious. As laughter joined the talking, Allorah loosed a little sigh of relief. Things were going to be all right. They would accept him. 

She finished eating and merely listened to the community around her. In all her business, she'd forgotten how much peace she found in simply being here among her people. 

Movement off to the side caught her eye. It was Geldan, seemingly returning from his patrol. A seat was cleared for him and he was handed a bowl of his own. Several men leaned in to talk to him and she caught the whisper of, "...Warrior."

Geldan didn't look up, saying mildly. "So I hear. We met earlier today."

A few people looked interested at that and pressed him for details, but he only shrugged casually, declining to discuss it. Allorah caught herself frowning, and quickly schooled her features to smoothness. For some reason, his casualness didn't seem right to her. Not after the obstinate suspicion he's shown that afternoon. 

Dusk deepened to true night and as the last people finished eating, the dishes were taken away. More logs were added to the fire and the younger children led off to their beds. The conversations turned to darker themes as people began to talk in earnest.  

Geldan waited for a general lull in the conversations to speak up. "So. Warrior." He said, still casual. Silence descended over the crowd. "You're here to help us." Allorah felt her uneasiness deepen. She didn't know where he was going with this, but she had the foreboding impression that it wasn't good. Her feeling was intensified a moment later when he said. "But, so far, none of us have heard how exactly you intend to do that."

Eyes turned to Varyn for his response. He returned evenly, "That depends on what you want me to do. And what you will allow me to teach you."

"Teach?" Geldan's raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You're going to teach us? What sort of things?"

"I will teach you War."

Geldan looked around as whispers flitted through the crowd. "That's an awfully broad topic, Warrior... Certainly you can give us something more specific?"

"The first thing I will teach you is tactics." He told them, his green gaze steady on Geldan. "As a hunting people, you fight well enough, but your use of the territory is pathetic. This is your land, you know it better than anyone. Doubtless better than these invaders, yet you don't use that to your advantage."

Anger flashed across Geldan's expression before he returned it to a strained neutral. "And you think you can do better?"

"I know it."

"How do you know it? Where does all this knowledge come from anyway?" He was rapidly losing his calm façade, his voice growing heated. 

"Geldan..." Allorah said lowly, warningly.

"And being so knowledgeable, of course you already know that there hasn't been a Warrior on this island for over a century. Because there haven't been any wars! Which means that wherever you gained your Warrior skills, it wasn't here. Coincidentally, the only people who seem to know as much about war as you do, are the invaders trying to kill us all!" He had dropped all pretenses now and was openly glaring. "I say you're one of them!"

"That is enough!" Allorah snapped, rising to her feet. "This man is our ally, Hunter, and I will not have you abuse him so!" Geldan stood too.

"With all due respect, Allorah, how can you know for certain? Of course he claims be an ally. A Warrior even!" His tone dripped with ridicule. "But have you any proof? Have you ever actually seen him kill a foreigner?"

Allorah opened her mouth to upbraid him for his intolerable rudeness, then stopped as she realized she hadn't ever seen anything to support Varyn's claims... Yes, his eyes were strange, but that alone wasn't enough to reveal anything, and there was no actual evidence to prove his skill. Or his allegiance. Her mouth tightened in frustration. "No." She answered grudgingly.

A triumphant gleam lit his eyes and he pressed his advantage, sensing her inner debate. "Exactly. There is only his word for any of it." Ominous muttering rippled through the spectators. Geldan seemed to take encouragement from it and his next comment was directed partially at them. "Only his word that he will not lead the invaders here to murder us in our beds!" The mutters rose to an angry buzz directed at Varyn. 

"Careful, Hunter." She with a dangerous softness. The crowd immediately went dead silent. "This is the second time today you have disputed the information I have already accepted as truth. Any further accusations I will take as a personal affront. When you question his word, you question mine."

Geldan's eyes widened, he seemed to flounder for some way to respond. The quietly powerful voice of Varyn saved him from having to. "He is right, though, actually." 

It was Allorah's turn for shock as all eyes turned to him in inquiry. He gave a crooked smile. "I have shown you nothing yet to merit your trust. And as you are under attack, your refusal to give it unconditionally is only to be expected. I will simply have to provide you with proof of my legitimacy."

"And how do you propose to do that?" Geldan asked nastily. He seemed to have regained his speech.

Varyn did not respond to the tone. "You spoke today of the threat of invaders in the woods nearby." He stared calmly at Geldan. "I will remove that threat." 

Several of the Hunters around the fire made loud scoffing noises. One of them who Allorah didn't know the name of spoke up. "Don't you think we tried that? There are too many of them to attack. Too fierce. And we haven't the men to be able to afford such a maneuver."

Varyn looked unfazed. "I intend to go alone. Tonight." 

This time there was a much louder outburst of exclamations and protests. Geldan looked as though he had something to say, but he kept his mouth closed after a glance at Allorah. The same man as before spoke again, incredulous. "That is suicide; I don't care how good you claim to be. And even if it wasn't... If you go alone, how can we know you don't go to rendezvous with them?" Allorah glared at him in warning and he quickly added, "But if you insist on following through with such insanity, someone should at least go with you. If only to tell us all how you died." There was quiet a moment as they waited for Varyn's reply.

"That is the one thing you will have to trust me about." He said slowly. "I go alone." He rose from his seat and in the orange illumination of the flames he looked truly daunting. "You will have your proof." And he turned and walked into the dark.

Voices raised in conversation and question. Several of the Hunters rose as well and made as if to follow, but Allorah halted them with a look and went after him on her own. She caught up to him quickly, and grabbed his wrist to pull him to a stop. Her eyes were still adjusting to the night away from the fire, but she could clearly see his emerald gaze glowing down at her with a hint of golden light. 

"You don't have to do this, you know." She told him. "There are other ways."

"But what did you summon me for, if not this?"

"I certainly didn't summon you to die!" She said sharply. 

She felt, more than saw his smile. "Could it be that you are worried for my safety?" He asked teasingly. Allorah said nothing. "Never fear, my lovely one. It would take much more than a few mere humans to fell me. I will return."

The almost arrogant confidence of his tone both exasperated and reassured her. She sighed. "When?"

"When I am finished." He bent and took her lips in a slow, firm kiss that left her wanting. His mouth curled in a smug little smile as they parted. "Go back home, Allorah. Sleep."

Her mouth twisted wryly. "Not likely. But I'll go home anyway." The smile slipped away, and she searched what she could discern of his features through the dark. "Be careful." She murmured.

His hand cupped her cheek, thumb trailing along her lips. Then he stepped back and turned to disappear into the shroud of nighttime. She blinked. One moment she saw him, the next she didn't, though she thought she should have been able to view some trace reflection of light off his remarkable silver hair. But there was nothing. She peered around her for a moment more, listening, and detected only the quiet forest sounds, and those of the people around the fire. Perhaps he would be able to manage this after all...

She returned briefly to the fire to bid everyone a good night, before beginning the walk up to the the treetops and then to her home at the eastern edge of the village. It was only when she was halfway up the ramp to the house that she realized Varyn had taken no weapon. 

Halting immediately, she turned to go back down then paused. She anxiously caught her bottom lip between her teeth. He was certainly long gone by now. There was nothing she could do, but it made her almost physically ill to think of him completely alone out there in such grave danger, without even a dagger to defend himself. She told herself to calm down. Trust that he knew what he was doing. And if he was a dragon, what difference would having a man-made weapon make anyway? 

It didn't help. Panic constricted her chest. 

Allorah made herself start walking back up the ramp again. Even breaths. She tried to distract herself from the gruesome thoughts by analyzing her reaction. Why should she care so much? Her fear was far too real to attempt dismissing it as simple concern for the potential loss of an ally, and she certainly wasn't afraid he was going to betray her people. So why? The answer loomed starkly in front of her, but she shied away from acknowledging it, even as she accepted its truth. She wasn't sure why she was avoiding even thinking it, except that it filled her with a completely different sort of fright. 

She walked the rest of the way up trying to think of nothing at all. 

***

Sitting outside on her little balcony, she pulled the shawl closer around her bare shoulders, and looked up at the stars. She thought of trying to count them all to ease her worry. She knew both tasks were impossible. Instead, she settled for picking out the constellations, reciting each one's story to herself under her breath.

There was the fish, swimming through the inky waters in the endless search for his brother on the other side of the sky. There was the tree under whose sparkling branches reclined the maiden, and whose far-reaching roots touched the back of the mole. And there was the cat, ever hunting the unsuspecting bird with its magnificent, twinkling plumage. There was the dragon... 

The dragon.

Constellations were really not that interesting after all, she decided. Definitely not worth freezing herself for. Allorah stood up from the bench and went inside, closing the door firmly behind her. 

To keep the candles from being blown out, she unrolled the woven cloth draperies to cover her windows, before going into the main room. Maybe some sedative tea would let her fall asleep. She sat at the table while she waited for the water to heat, unconsciously twisting the corner of her shawl between anxious fingers. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the panel of the hidden entrance to the room below swing open, and Dannonae stepped out. Allorah didn't look over, but continued worrying the cloth between her fingers, thinking. Seeing her distraction, the old Priestess went over to the stove and looked at the jar Allorah had taken out for her tea. 





The Warrior Ch. 04



"Valerian root?" She murmured in tones of surprise, glancing at her former apprentice. "Has something happened?"

Allorah didn't look up, but spoke curtly. "He's gone to rout the invaders in the Sacred Wood." 

"Oh." She said.

The kettle started to hiss and Dannonae took it off the flame, pouring the steaming water into a cup. She sprinkled in a careful dose of the herb then set the mixture in front of Allorah, seating herself at the corner next to her and folding her hands on the tabletop. Allorah didn't touch the cup, and Dannonae didn't say anything, merely watched the younger woman absorbed in her thoughts. Abruptly she spoke. 

"I am a fool."

Dannonae raised an eyebrow. "Why do you say that?"

Allorah's mouth twisted in a self-mocking smile. "He is a dragon. I know that. Of course he's capable of taking care of himself. And the whole reason why I brought him here was to help us fight those horrible people. Yet... Now that he's out there..." She caught a glimpse of a knowing smile on Dannonae's face and looked over at her sharply. "What?"

"Perhaps you are being a little irrational, Allorah, but you have never been a fool. Even when you were a child you possessed a wisdom beyond your years." Her eyes held a parent's warmth as she gently removed the mangled cloth from Allorah's fingers. For a moment, she looked as though she were about to say something more, then she sighed and looked away. 

She rose from her seat, using her hands to lever her to standing. Allorah noticed sadly that this past year had not been kind to her mentor; she seemed to age visibly every day. Dannonae gave her another smile and affectionately brushed a hand over her hair. "Drink your tea."

Allorah smiled weakly back and picked up the cup. Satisfied, Dannonae turned and went into her room, shutting the door quietly. 

Allorah watched the closed door for a minute then stood as well. Taking small sips of the hot liquid so as not to scald her tongue, she went to her own room. She turned down the covers on her bed while she waited for the brew to cool, then combed the silken tumble of hair that fell to the middle of her back. She washed her face and used the remaining water and a cleansing paste to scrub her teeth with a small, stiff brush. Once her ablutions were completed, she gulped down the remaining tea, blew out the candles and climbed into bed. 

Curled in the comfort of her familiar blankets, and with the sedative now in her system, she should have been able to fall asleep. The barely perceptible swaying of the great tree had always been lulling to her before, and the soft rustle of the leaves had for many years accompanied her to slumber. Yet she twisted uncomfortably in her bed, unable to quiet her thoughts long enough for unconsciousness to overtake her. 

Finally she threw aside the blankets in disgust and sat on the edge of the bed. Her night-adjusted eyes wandered restlessly around the little room until they alighted upon the fur lying on the chest at the foot of her bed. It was the cat pelt that she'd used for the ritual. The one that Varyn had worn. 

She didn't know what made her do it, but she reached over and picked it up, bringing it close to her and inhaling. Mostly she smelled the slightly musty smell common to furs, but there... very faintly, was something else. The trace of a strange, masculine scent lingering on the pelt. Allorah breathed in again then climbed back under the covers, spreading the fur out on top. She rustled around a little, but stilled after a minute.

There, with the hint of him near her, she at last drifted off to sleep. 

***

Allorah Dreamed. She knew instinctively that this was no mere fantasy, but something more. It had happened to her frequently when she was younger, these strange dreams that were not dreams, sometimes even when she was awake. Dannonae called them visions. Sometimes they felt like memories, though not hers. At other times they had the ephemeral quality that led her to believe they were events yet to occur. 

This time, she saw it as it was happening. 

The coiled figure stalked his prey in deadly silence, gliding along the darkened forest with all the substance of a moon-cast shadow. He carried no weapons, nor did he need any. The two men he hunted, their pale eyes wide with fear, kept close to one another. Moonlight glinted off the swords they held in trembling hands and off their fair hair; they twitched and tensed at the small nighttime sounds around them. The figure grinned in feral delight.

In a flicker of movement he was behind the one to the left. He gripped his victim's head between his hands and twisted. With a quiet "pop" the man dropped like a stone, his neck broken. The figure disappeared again before the second man finished turning toward the sound. He let out a sort of strangled gasp and whipped around again, brandishing his sword around him in wild terror. 

From the shadows off to the side, the figure watched his flailing prey. He contemplated finishing him now, putting him out of his misery, then decided against it. Better to discretely herd him to one of the other, larger pockets of men, where his wild-eyed tale about the annihilation of his unit would plant the seed of fright in the others. It would expedite the process of spooking them out of their conditioning, their meticulous organization, leaving them in the vulnerable mentality of the hunted. Making them that much easier to kill. 

As the figure began luring his prey to his decided destination, using little sounds to spur the panicked man in the right direction, a small part of the Dreaming Allorah registered this most unusual ability to hear the hunter's thoughts. In all her visions up until now, she had only served as an outside observer, never actually privy to what any of the participants were thinking. The abnormality was quickly tucked away for later, and her full attention returned to the scene. 

For hours the figure continued his deadly game. Even after slowly picking-off all the members of the group he'd led the unfortunate soldier to, he moved to the next and began again. Sometimes he killed them all, other times he spared a few to stumble upon his next targets, where they were usually included in the ensuing slaughter anyway. But the overall strategy was always in his mind, so he carefully let one from every third group or so flee back to the rest of their army. The combination of their separate testimonies should have the effect of dissuading their commanders from attacking through these woods again. 

He mostly used his hands to do the work, fingernails extended and hardened to wicked claws. It was as much Shifting as he would allow himself. To go any further would remove all challenge from the encounters. And there was a sort of pleasure to be found in excelling within these self-imposed limitations. 

The slightest lightening in the patches of sky visible through the trees told him it was time to finish up. There was one more group he wanted to deal with before he did, though. Slipping through undergrowth, a little smile curved his lips when he saw all the soldiers, crouched and intently looking in the direction of the village. His smile widened when he saw the ornamentation on the sword of a soldier in the middle of the group. An officer... 

Without warning he leaped from his cover and attacked. His claws ripped through one man's throat, a kick sent splinters of bone into another's brain. He moved so quickly that three more died before the rest realized what was happening. They sluggishly attempted a counter-attack and the figure relished the variation in the routine. Subtlety had its place and purpose, but a direct approach was much more satisfying. Easily dodging their weapons, he picked up one of the swords from the ground and began wielding it to deadly effect. The officer made a swing at him, screaming in rage, and the figure knocked the blow aside, continuing the motion to run one of the other soldiers through. 

Moments later, only the officer was left. He breathed heavily, either in fear or fury, though the figure was not winded. A flurry of action and the officer's ornamented sword was in the other man's hand. It was time to go back to the village, and the officer would be coming with him. Turning him around by sword-point, he prodded him in the back and they began walking. 

Allorah flew to consciousness with a start. 

The images from her vision tumbled and tangled in her mind as she threw off the covers and fumbled in the pre-dawn gloom for her shawl, but one thought dominated all the others: Varyn was back. She delayed running out the door only long enough to pull on and hastily lace her mid-calf boots. Her ebon curls streamed unbound as she raced down the spiraling ramp to the main level of the village and the cold air chilled her face, bringing a pink flush to her cheeks. 

Nearly all the torches had been extinguished, and the moon had long since set. But it didn't matter to her. She knew where she was going as surely as if a string tied around her heart was tugging her in the right direction. She flew along the wooden paths, one hand barely keeping the shawl from blowing away in her haste. Aside from the light, rapid cadence of her footfalls, the still-dark morning was completely silent until a piercing whistle shrilled from the distance. It was a sentry's warning of someone's approach. 

She skidded to a stop at the very edge of the treetop pathways. She braced her hands on the railing, leaning forward over the edge to peer into the shrinking darkness below. There was nothing. Behind her, armed men were rushing from their homes in response to the sentry's call. She heard confused murmurs as they saw her standing there, then she saw it. A small patch of silver, moving towards them on the forest floor. 

Her breath caught in her throat and she sped over to the nearest lift. Two men stepped inside as well before she could close the gate to go down, and she clenched her jaw impatiently as one of them kept their descent to a safely slow pace. By the time they reached the ground, it was clear that there were two figures approaching, one in front of the other.

An image of the officer in her dream flashed through her head, making her blink and pause, momentarily disoriented. Regaining her senses, she saw the men who'd come down with her raising their bows to aim at the figures who walked towards them. 

"No!" She cried. She darted forward to place her body between them and the oncoming men. "Do not shoot!"

They exchanged a startled glance and looked back to her as if to say something. A sudden thought occurred to her and she ran far enough out from under the treetop walkways that by squinting she could barely make out the drawn bows of the defenders above. Fear gave her voice strength as she screamed desperately up to them, "DO NOT SHOOT!" 

Miraculously, they heard and she saw one man raise his hand to signal that all should wait. Allorah let her anxious breath leave her and turned back to the forest. She could see Varyn's face now, and that of the bearded officer he had captured. She was looking him over for injury when the two men from the lift, two new ones, and Geldan all appeared at her elbow. They waited with her silently as Varyn closed the remaining distance and forced the officer to his knees before them. 

After a moment, Geldan said, almost as if he couldn't believe it, "You're alive."

"I am," Varyn agreed, adding smugly, "And I've brought you all a gift." He poked the kneeling officer in the shoulder with one sword and the man flinched, lowering his head. Geldan and the others looked at him in bewilderment. 

"What are we supposed to do with him?" He asked, only confusion in his voice. 

Varyn shrugged. "Whatever you like. Though if you decide to kill him, I would advise questioning him first."

Geldan nodded slowly. With a graceful movement, Varyn flipped the sword in his left hand around so that he held it by the blade, and offered it hilt-first to the shorter man while he kept the officer in place by pressing the ornamented sword's point into the back of his neck. Geldan took the sword gingerly, but gave a respectful nod before motioning for two of the others to hoist the officer to his feet and bear him away. After another glance at Varyn, he and the other two turned to follow, leaving Allorah alone with him. 

She could only look at him for a minute. His hands and arms were stained crimson, and blood spotted his torso, but she felt no alarm. She asked anyway. "Are you injured?"

One side of his mouth curled up in a crooked smile. "No."

"Then all that blood—?"

"Is not mine." He finished for her. She nodded in affirmation of her own thoughts. 

"Come." She told him, turning away. "We will get you cleaned up."

As she led him back up the lift and along the walkways, eyes and whispers of the emerging townsfolk following them, she felt a fluttering in her stomach that was mingled relief and something else. She didn't dwell on it.

Her tower-home was too far for practicality, so they went into the first of the communal kitchen buildings they came across. At this time in of the morning there was no one inside, so they were alone as she went to one of the rain barrels and filled a bowl for him to wash with. When she turned back, he had already removed his scarlet-soaked shirt and deposited his similarly drenched sword on the table. As she silently handed him the bowl and a rag to scrub with, she took a moment to marvel again at the masculine beauty of his body. The blood streaking his chest and arms even seemed to heighten it, adding a primal roughness to his sculpted perfection. Unconsciously, she wetted her lips with the tip of her tongue. 

He washed quickly while she waited. She felt herself filling with a strange sort of calm in just watching him, hale and whole and preoccupied. And that moment, she allowed her mind to touch on the true depth of her feeling for him, even if only for a heartbeat. She loved him. No matter how suddenly it had happened, no matter that she hardly knew him. She loved him...

Allorah stepped forward, close enough that she was sure he could feel her breath warming the water on his chest. She reached up with one hand and gently turned his face towards her. The surprise she found there made her smile. She'd caught him off-balance. Then she stood on tip-toe and pulled his mouth down to hers. 

The kiss didn't start out passionate, but it soon became so. The banked fire within both their bodies flared brightly, burning for completion. She pulled her lips away and opened her eyes to look at him dazedly. "I'm glad you're back." 

He kissed her again, hard. "I told you I would be."

"Yes, you did..." And any other words were lost as he brought her close, and resumed where they had left off. She felt him swelling against her abdomen with an answering slickness gathering between her legs. Suddenly she pulled away again, murmuring, "No..."

He stopped immediately, but frowned down at her in confusion. "No?"

A wicked gleam lit her violet eyes as she grabbed his hands from around her waist and began tugging him after her. "Not here." She walked backwards, leading him to the door of a storage room for the kitchen's supplies. Catching on to her intention, he kicked the door closed behind them and followed her until her back bumped into the far wall. Then it was a frenzy of activity as they rushed to bare themselves enough to be joined. Her shawl dropped to the floor, discarded, and she quickly wriggled out of her lower undergarments, not having worn anything up top to bed. His dexterous fingers quickly unlaced his trousers and as his impressive length sprang free, he sighed gratefully. 

"I have a newfound respect for human males..." He muttered, then gripped her around the waist once again, this time lifting her effortlessly into the air. Realizing his aim, Allorah hiked up her shift enough to allow her to encircle his waist with her legs, and she wrapped her arms about his neck. He used his grasp on her hips to line himself up with her entrance, coating the tip with his juices in the process. Then he dropped her. 

She gave a muffled cry as she sank all the way down, sheathing him fully. Her inner walls rippled at the welcome intrusion; so much sudden stimulation all at once. His hands shifted from their position on her hips to grab her bottom, slowly lifting her again. As she moaned at the sensation of his flesh dragging out of hers, she relished the possessive power of his hands squeezing through the thin material. Then he let her sink back down again and they started all over.

He soon got into a rhythm, and she discovered she could add enormous pleasure by circling her hips while he was buried deep inside her. She did this on every other down stroke until her head was reeling and she could only moan while he bounced her up and down on his cock. Her nipples were like little pebbles, constantly rubbed by the weave of her shift as she pressed her chest to his. His mouth found her neck and he licked and bit along the ivory skin. The scrape of his teeth and his fingers digging into her cheeks as he ravished her vigorously sent her over the edge. She smothered her yell against his shoulder and bucked hard against him, wanting to feel him let go as well. At the very end of her climax, she squeezed him with her pussy muscles as hard as she could, clenching him to a halt. He gasped, and with the tiny jerk of her hips she felt him swell and explode, coating her walls with sticky warmth and sending tingling aftershocks throughout her system. He threw back his head and groaned and Allorah watched the pleasure on his face with satisfaction. He was magnificent.

After a moment, he began calming his breaths, and he tilted his head forward again and grinned lopsidedly at her. She smiled back and leaned in to press her lips to his briefly, then stared contentedly at the gold swirling through the green of his irises. He brought her out of her study by returning the kiss just as quickly before carefully lifting her off his softening length and letting her slide down to the floor. Allorah sighed resignedly at the loss but looked around for where she'd dropped her undergarment while he tucked himself back in and began lacing up. 

A minute later and they were both decent again, though Allorah was conscious of the lingering flush of exertion in her cheeks and Varyn still wore a self-satisfied smile. Leading the way back out into the kitchen, Allorah cleaned up the washing tools and the table, and Varyn picked up his bloodied shirt by a part of it that was mostly clean. He used it to wipe the hilt of the sword clean, before picking that up too. The sight of the blood sobered her a little, a reminder that he had spent the night killing. 

But she didn't let it bother her too much and she turned her thoughts to other things that she had more influence over. Such as his diet. He didn't look tired, but she thought by now he surely must be hungry. The kitchen was still empty save for the two of them, so no hot meals would be coming out of here for a while, but there was food at her home and while he ate, maybe they could try doing something about either washing that shirt or getting him a new one...

Voices and footsteps came from the walkway outside. She realized now that he'd proved his authenticity, the Hunters and the other fighters would all be wanting to speak with him about the war, making plans and learning what he had to teach. She'd only just discovered that she wanted him to herself and now everyone else would want some of his time too. The irony made her sigh again. 

Varyn looked at her inquisitively but she merely shrugged and smiled to indicate it was nothing. The footsteps stopped outside the kitchen door, as if they hesitated to interrupt. Allorah ignored them. "Are you hungry?" She asked. 




The Warrior Ch. 04



"I am." He replied. 

"Good." She started walking toward the door and he followed. "I believe there is some stew left over at my home."

"Perfect."

She opened the door and, sure enough, several Hunters stood outside, looking expectant. Allorah nodded politely at them and walked right past, Varyn at her side. She caught a glimpse of their faces as she passed, surprise and respect mixed. A little smile curved her lips and she kept on walking. 

The rest of the world could wait for a while.



The Warrior Ch. 05



Author's Note: Greetings, lovely readers. Given how long it's taken me to actually write this chapter, and all the delays in between, I've had to reacquaint myself with the characters, and if my rendition of them is less than you remembered, my apologies. Sometimes in this chapter, I'm a bit rusty with them. But I'm going to keep working on this storyline until its end, and thank you for all of your comments and patience in the meantime!

~~~

CHAPTER 5: The Prisoner

Allorah felt something tickling slowly along her side. She wriggled, still mostly asleep, and the tickling trailed down over her hip and along her leg. Sleepily opening her eyes a fraction, she looked for the source of the sensation and found a long-fingered hand poised over her bare skin. Her eyes opened fully and she smiled, rolling onto her back to gaze up at Varyn in sleepy amusement. 

"Good morning, my Priestess." He greeted her. 

"Mm." Allorah brought her arms over her head and stretched her torso languidly, her feet twisting in the covers. "Warrior Varyn," she yawned. Her smile widened as she realized how this exchange echoed the one only two days past. How much had changed since then. 

"You are in a fair mood," he noted. 

"A night of good rest oft has such an effect." She replied, and his mouth curved slyly. 

"Do I sense a veiled rebuke?" 

Allorah raised her eyebrows in question. "A rebuke?" 

Leaning over her, his smile grew as he brushed his lips over the corner of her jaw, making her shiver. "For disrupting your sleep these nights past." He answered. She could feel as well as hear his amusement in the heated breath on her skin.

"Mm," she said again, "Well, now that you remind me... Yes, yes it is." 

"And yet, I never heard you complain, " he pointed out smugly. 

Allorah rolled her eyes. "You have a selective memory, it would seem." 

She realized, after saying it, that it could be interpreted harshly, but he didn't seem troubled. Instead, he grinned and leaned down again to kiss her deeply. His tongue found its way easily between her lips and coaxed hers to a slow, twining dance that made her body fill with delightful tingles and the sweeping heat that seemed to be ignited only by him. She felt his hand return to her skin, this time sliding slowly up her body to oh-so-lightly trace around the curve of her breast. By the time he drew his mouth from hers, her heart beat rapidly in her ears, and she felt a wetness between her legs. 

"You don't seem to be complaining now." He nipped gently at her lower lip. 

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You cheat." 

His grin widened as his fingers found her nipple. Allorah sucked in a breath when he pinched it lightly. "Or," he countered, "I simply play by rules unfamiliar to you." 

She scoffed at his mischievous reply, but had to fight to keep a smile from her features. Different rules, hmm? Well, if was going to be like that, she would play his way. Bringing one of her arms down, she let it trail softly over the skin of his shoulder, cool from the morning air that blew in through her window. Before he could move again and spoil her plans, she quickly drew her fingertips across his collar bone, down the front of his chest and over the hard, lean muscles of his belly until she felt them brush against thick white hair. As her small hand wrapped around the long hardness she felt at the center, she let her smile emerge. 

"Is this in your rules, then?" She teased and gripped the firm flesh gently. 

Varyn made a short sound deep in his throat, his eyelids lowering a fraction. "Most certainly," he replied in a low purr. 

"Hm," Allorah mused, puzzling over her next step. Impulsively, she pushed against his shoulder with her other hand, sitting up as he rolled onto his side, an eyebrow raised in question. In answer, she laid her palm against his chest and pushed. "Down," she ordered, and laid him on his back. 

His viridian eyes followed her in curious amusement as she moved to kneel over him, her knees on either side of his thigh. She was highly aware of the heated wetness at the juncture of her legs when it pressed against his skin, and of the pleasant sensation that came from sliding her hips back and forth. But her attention was really on the proud column of flesh that she still held in her hand. 

His cock jutted erect and thick from his hips, textured with veins prominent enough to be noticeable, but not so large as to distract from the smooth shape of it. She traced one thumb lightly over a particularly large vein, then drew her loosely curled fingers up along the shaft. A smile curved her mouth at the pleasantly silken quality of his skin, firm and warm under her experimental touch. 

Varyn sighed in satisfaction as she continued the motion, bringing his hands up to lace behind his head while he watched her. She took particular enjoyment in exploring the difference between the shaft and the head of his member, running her circled fingers repeatedly over the sensitive ridge and tightening her grip on the hot flesh every now and again. From the way his breathing had turned strictly controlled and even, and the low rumble in his chest, she gathered he was enjoying it as well. 

On sudden impulse, Allorah bent down and placed a light kiss on the head of his cock. His heated skin felt lovely against her lips and she heard his breath catch in his throat. Looking up at him through her eyelashes, she allowed herself a small smile. "Oh, you like this, do you?" 

He gave an affirmative grunt and brought one of his hands down to rest on the back of her head, urging her down. But Allorah sat back up again, brushing his hand away and shaking her head. "No." She said. 

For a moment, something akin to frustration flashed across his face before he schooled them to neutrality again. "No?" He asked calmly. 

Allorah smiled a sly smile and tightened her grip on his shaft again. Despite his efforts to appear to the contrary, she had him where she wanted him. "We play by my rules now." She playfully picked up his wrist and made a motion to toss it back towards his head; he got the idea and obediently laced his fingers together once more, curious amusement resuming its place on his features. 

"Good." She nodded. 

And with that she bent once more, this time to run her tongue along the swollen head. She noted with satisfaction how his muscles tightened beneath her, and with interest how the flesh yielded slightly under her tongue; this skin of the head appeared to have slightly more give than that of the shaft. She paused a moment to assess the taste of him: a concentrated, musky version of what the skin on rest of his body tasted like. She quite liked it and returned to her attentions with renewed enthusiasm. 

Moving her hand to rest on his hip, she slid the flat of her tongue from bathing the head, down to explore the veins along his shaft that she had felt earlier. They gave the surface a pleasing variation, and she found she liked using them as a means to trace up and down and along his length. 

It seemed a natural progression from there that she should try taking him into her mouth. As her lips closed around his shaft right below the ridge, she heard him let out a quiet sigh of pleasure. Were her mouth not otherwise occupied, she would have smiled at the reaction. As it was, she experimented with sucking him in and out of her mouth, using varying degrees of pressure, and running her tongue along the smooth surface and particularly along the slit at the top. 

Initially, she was very careful to keep her teeth from scraping him, but after she accidentally let them drag over his skin, eliciting a short groan from him, she tried applying it more often, though always gently. Between that and pressing the silky flesh gently against the roof of her mouth, she could feel his heartbeat speed up noticeably under her hand which she had again wrapped around the base of his cock to better hold him in place. 

Though he dutifully kept his hands behind his head, after a few minutes of this, his hips raised slightly, pushing more of him into her mouth. Allorah's eyes widened, but she did not pull back, and instead worked her tongue and her lips around this new section, wetting it with her saliva before drawing back up slowly. She admired how it shone slick in the clear morning light before sliding her mouth down once more, this time even further than before, emboldened by her success so far. 

Slowly, she gained a rhythm to her motions, pulling her mouth up along his shaft then sliding back down again, a little further each time. She played with sucking him in hard as she went down, then relaxing and wriggling her tongue around on the underside of his cock as she moved her head back up again. From the glances she occasionally cast up at him, she could see his muscles tight with restraint; he fought hard to keep within the boundaries of her new rules. Allorah found this pleasing. 

Finally, she took as much into her mouth as she was able, using her hand to massage the inches that were left. She held there a moment, sucking firmly, before resuming her pace. Each time she sank down she felt the tip of his member brush the back of her throat, but after gagging once, she was careful to draw back up again before it happened again. 

"Allorah," she heard him murmur and looked up inquisitively, though she kept the head of him in her mouth and rolled her tongue around on it as he took two slow, controlled breaths. His voice remained calm and even. "Unless you wish me to spend in your mouth, you'd best stop." 

She blinked at him in surprise; as skilled as he was at keeping himself outwardly composed, she hadn't realized how close she'd brought him. Still, with some reluctance, she released her hold on him and sat up, carefully wiping the corners of her lips as she regarded him. 

"Perhaps some other time," she finally replied thoughtfully. "For now, I have a different idea..." 

Allorah found herself smiling again as she slid up his thigh, leaving a wet, warm trail along his skin. She didn't object when Varyn brought his hands down from behind his fair head and gripped her shoulders, pulling her up to kiss her fiercely. He seemed ready to roll her onto her back and ravish her right then, but she forestalled him by placing her small palm on his chest to hold him gently in place. That same quickly-smothered frustration darkened his features before she swung her leg to straddle his torso. As she wriggled her backside against his hardness he at last smiled in that self-satisfied way of his and she kissed him again on his smug mouth. 

His tongue found its way between her lips again while one of his hands flattened on the small of her back. The other reached down to guide his cock to the entrance of her thoroughly wetted pussy. When he slipped into her willing flesh, they both let out a grateful sigh. 

As his hands slid along her ivory skin to rest on her hips, she sank down a little further, savoring each inch of him as it was enveloped inside her. Allorah splayed her fingers on his chest again for better balance and kept her descent to an almost agonizing slowness. She was panting with desire and Varyn's long fingers bit into the soft flesh of her hips by the time she finally dropped the rest of the way down, sheathing the last few inches inside her hot hole all at once.

Without any real thought, she began a slow rocking motion on him. His cock slid in and out easily, and she realized to her great delight that if she ground her hips down when he was all the way inside her, his pelvis stimulated her clit wonderfully. Her heartbeat quickened at the discovery and she soon found herself riding him more vigorously. 

Varyn pace increased as well, the force of his thrusts becoming more aggressive as he spared one hand from its steel grasp on her hip to twist in her hair and pull her to his hungry mouth. She let out a throaty moan when their lips met; the increased pressure on her clit and the variation in the angle drove her to new heights of sensitivity. 

He broke the kiss abruptly, using his grip on her ebon curls to draw her head back gently but firmly and expose the graceful line of her neck to him. Allorah's breath came in shallow pants at both the vulnerability and the eroticism of the pose; it occurred to her vaguely that somehow the rules seemed to have changed hands again without her knowing it. Then a strong roll of his hips wiped everything but the pleasure from her mind and she was only aware of his hard cock throbbing inside her and the hot, wet kisses he was placing along the bottom of her jaw. His lips, and then soft nips of his teeth trailed down her skin to a smooth shoulder and her breath stuttered as his other hand rose to squeeze one of her breasts. 

When his mouth moved to join his long fingers in teasing and caressing the rosy nipple, Allorah shifted her own grip to his broad shoulders. Her nails pricked his skin at each lap of the skilled tongue on her flesh. Occupied as he was, however, it was she that started rocking her hips against him again, forceful with growing need. 

It didn't take him long to match her urgency. Though she whimpered in protest when his lips left her nipples shining with his saliva to instead plunder her mouth once more, she was soon distracted beyond caring with the combination of his darting tongue and his thrusting cock. 

"Allorah," he broke the kiss only just enough to pant against her mouth, "I won't last much longer." 

"Wait for me," she gasped back. "I'm close... I'm close." 

His face hardened with control, but he waited and she ground and writhed and bounced herself on his hard shaft until she felt her body filling with that incredible pressure that would herald her ultimate release. Her limbs tautened further and she felt her breaths come ragged and hot. Sweat dampened her hair and added further slickness between their bodies, despite the chill of the air. She was hardly conscious of her fingers digging into his shoulders as she raced to her peak, only of his cock in her tightening pussy, his burning skin against hers and her glorious, terrible need to release the glowing tension that ran through her. 

Then, suddenly, she was there. Once, twice, and three times she jerked her hips against his pelvis and she felt herself cumming. A thin cry escaped her throat as her body clenched and unclenched with the energy rushing through her form, her pussy muscles rippling along his dick. Varyn took it as a signal to let go himself, and with a grunt and quick, forceful jerks, he shot his seed deep inside her wet cavern. 

As she looked down at him, Allorah felt her arms trembling, and carefully relaxed her fingers from their grip on his shoulders. He gazed back at her, his eyes that strange golden-green, satisfaction in every line of his face. She couldn't help but to smile back at him, and leaned down to lay her head on his chest and rest her trembling limbs. 

Closing her eyes, she felt his fingertips trailing delicately over her spine. Her smile widened at the reminder of how he had woken her not an hour ago, and she let the rest of her body relax into him, relishing the low thumping of his heart under her ear. 

She was half-way to falling asleep again, when he stirred. Allorah nestled into him drowsily, making a small sound of protest in her throat. The deep rumble of his laugh echoing against her ear startled her into full wakefulness and he said, "We've dallied long enough, my Priestess. It is time to begin the day." 

Allorah wanted to grumble at him that both their days had most certainly already begun —he'd seen to that— but instead she sighed and nodded. Gently, he helped lift her to sitting where she reluctantly eased herself off of his cock and climbed off his lap. 

For a fleeting moment as she felt his warmth leave her, Allorah wished she weren't a Priestess. As just a woman, she could tarry with Varyn all morning, and even into the afternoon without the constant pressure of not only being a public figure, but of fulfilling such tasks as only a priestess could manage. Without the looming guilt if she failed to accomplish something to expectation. 

Catching herself, Allorah roughly smothered the thought. Such rationale was foolish and only brought sorrow. She was what she was, and she was grateful to serve her people in any way possible, pressure or no. Besides, if she had never been trained as she was, she would never have been able to meet Varyn at all. 

Still, it was easy when alone with him to forget the rest of the world and all its attendant troubles. 

She allowed herself one more wistful glance at him before she stood and went briskly about the process of preparing for the day. She dressed again in soft undergarments, a simple grey skirt and a white, full-sleeved shirt that came down to her knees and with slits along the sides at the lower part so as to keep the movement of her legs free. She tied another sash, this time of a faded purple, around her slim waist then braided her black hair out of her face. Her functional boots completed the uniform. 

In the meantime, Varyn had slipped into his own things: the trousers that were still just a hair too short, a new shirt that was large enough to accommodate his broad shoulders and a belt made of sturdy, braided hide. Though someone was in the process of making him a pair of boots that would fit, they were not yet finished, so they had improvised a pair of sandals for him out of bits of wood and leather. Not particularly fierce, but better than going barefoot, in her estimation. 

As they made their way out into the main room, she resolved to query again about finding him a more permanent set of clothing, but that was low on her list of priorities. First came food. 

Before Varyn, her usual practice had been to brew only a morning tea in the small home allotted to the island's Priestesses before breaking her fast properly within one of the communal kitchens amidst the treetop village. Even so, she and Dannonae kept a small store of foodstuffs close at hand within a cabinet or two, the thick walls of the living tree keeping them well-insulated from the the heat of even the sunnier days. It was with some of these stores that Allorah now began to assemble a simple breakfast of bread, berries, and cheese from the small goats of the island. She brought out the last of the dried meat as well for Varyn's consumption and set two steaming mugs of tea on the table. 

They ate in calm silence, content merely to share one another's company. Underneath the table, Allorah could feel Varyn's shin pressing gently against her own leg, a wordless comfort. 

As she wrapped her hands around the warm mug of fragrant, invigorating tea, she went over the mental list of tasks she needed to do that day, the most immediate such as caring for the wounded at the top, and the less pressing ones further down. She still needed to meet with the Weavers about a new collection of cloth for bandages, for they were beginning to run low in the infirmary. Then there was the matter of the Solstice Ceremony that had been almost entirely neglected in the face of the more immediate war efforts, and another meeting with the Elders which as a full Priestess Dannonae had insisted she begin attending, and... 

"You should eat more." Varyn's bass voice remarked gently from her side. She turned to look at him, smoothing the small frown she had unconsciously adopted with her thoughts. 

"Oh? And why is that?" 

He smiled faintly. "Because you will wear yourself to uselessness if you do not." 

"I suppose you're right," she acceded. "But I find it hard to muster an appetite these days." 

"Mm." He leaned back in his chair, regarding her thoughtfully. "Humans can be very fragile." 

Her like-minded thoughts of all the delicate lives that waited for her in the hospital were distracted by the finger he ran idly along the line of her jaw. Pleasant tingles followed in the wake of his fingertip. "Then again," he said, grinning, "You can also be quite ferocious. Such as this morning." 




The Warrior Ch. 05



Allorah flushed, but replied smoothly, "An interesting contradiction, are we not?" 

"Most certainly." His green cat-eyes watched her in amusement. 

They sat in silence for a time until he glanced pointedly toward the platter in front of her. "You are not eating." 

Allorah sighed. "Are all dragons so domineering?" She glanced at him in mock-annoyance, attempting to be casual with the reference to how different he was from her.

He smiled broadly and retorted, "Only when placed in charge of large numbers of humans." 

"How is that going, by the by?" 

"They try." He shrugged. "But the ways of War do not come naturally to them." 

"Will they be able to adapt?" Allorah's fingers tightened around her cup anxiously. 

"In time, I believe so." 

But did they have that time? That was the prevailing problem: there was never enough time for what needed to be done. She supposed that was so with all of life, but now, with the war on their doorstep, it seemed to be proving more true than ever. 

Suddenly she pushed back her chair and stood. She needed to do something productive. "Are you finished eating?" She asked, and at his nod, began gathering to the items on the table to store and wash as needed. 

Allorah finished quickly then walked with him out of the house and down the long, coiling ramp to the village below. The clear air heralded another lovely day, with a light breeze that made the leaves all around dance and sparkle in the morning sun. As the morning dew dried, it left a pleasant, green smell to linger. 

Allorah surveyed the villagers going about their errands among the intricate network of trees and walkways, though she noted sadly that there were still a great deal fewer individuals on the ground than was usual for this time of day. She reminded herself that a few was better than none, in any case, and wondered if Varyn's efforts with the Hunters might not be responsible for this small improvement. 

As they reached the bottom of the ramp, Varyn stopped and faced her. "You will be in the infirmary again?" 

"For a time, at least. Though there are other matters I must attend to also, and soon." She restrained a sigh. 

"I see. Then likely I shall see you at the fire tonight." 

"Yes." Allorah attempted to keep the disappointment from her voice; given both of their duties, they could hardly spend all their time together. 

The corner of his mouth turned up very slightly at her tone and he reached out again, tracing the line of her jaw. She shivered at the pleasant tingle of his touch. "Until then," he said and dropped his hand. 

"Until then." 

He turned, and she watched him stroll away, all sleek, silver elegance and power. She gave one last composing exhalation and went in the opposite direction to begin her own tasks. 

The makeshift hospital was crowded, but thankfully less so than in recent months, a fact which she attributed largely to the nighttime rout by Varyn and the resultant pause in skirmishes between the two sides. Most of the noise now had to do with the recovering men, many healed enough to remember their boredom and restlessness. While deeply relieved at the progress, Allorah was now presented with the new challenge of coaxing them to patience, as many of their wounds were still too unstable to allow them out of the sight of the now well-practiced healers. She worried that if released to their own homes and devices, they would unwittingly push themselves to further injury or sickness out of eagerness to return to the protection of the island. 

All in all, however, the mood of the room was a significant improvement, and the majority of her patients seemed well on their way to full recoveries. There were still some who showed little or no improvement, but Allorah yet held out hope for their convalescence, and dutifully went about changing bandages and feeding broth —often laced with medicinal herbs— with a silent prayer to the Gods for each of them. 

She was in the process of preparing another salve for a nasty thigh-wound, when a young Hunter named Eebek approached her deferentially. He was a few years her junior, and had only recently been initiated as a proper Hunter, but his training showed in the silence of his footfalls. 

"Priestess Allorah?" 

"Yes?" She looked up from her task at him. In the back of her mind, she wondered at how she seemed to have adopted the title of Priestess without any official ceremony; everyone seemed to have begun referring to her as such of late, and apparently thought nothing unusual of it. Quickly though, she marshaled her attention back to the young man in front of her. 

"I've been asked if you would be available to assist us with something." 

"Who is 'us?'" She queried, wiping her hands on a cloth. 

"The Hunters," he replied then added a little hesitantly, "We thought you might be able to help us communicate with the prisoner." 

She looked Eebek sharply in surprise; since the prisoner's delivery by Varyn the day before, she had heard no more on the matter and hadn't expected to, except perhaps in the later context of some new information about the enemy. Her brows knit together as she considered what he said before she asked, "Do you know who suggested me for the task?" 

The boy looked slightly puzzled in turn, but answered, "Um, it was the Warrior, Priestess. We presented the problem to him first, but he said that you would likely be the best one among us for communicating. He said he was much better at capturing prisoners than talking with them." Belatedly, Eebek seemed to realize that he had perhaps conveyed more than she was asking and he closed his mouth tightly. 

Allorah pressed her own lips together to hide a smile, not wanting to embarrass him. Such a thing certainly sounded like Varyn, but she was still confused as to why he thought her best for the task. True, she had studied and had an affinity for the ancient tongues as recorded in the oldest scrolls, but he had no way of knowing that, as far as she was aware. Still, it wouldn't hurt to try, and perhaps Varyn knew something she did not. She nodded to the young Hunter. 

"I will finish my rounds here, and then make an attempt. Will you send a Hunter to the easterly kitchen to guide me to where the prisoner is being kept, and to inform me on what we know so far?" 

"Yes, Priestess. And thank you." The boy gave a bow and turned to hurry away with her answer, looking relieved. Allorah looked after him as he went, wondering what exactly she was getting into. 

***

"Allorah... I don't think this is a good idea." 

She looked up from the tray of items she was assembling to find Geldan regarding her with a frown, his dark grey eyes anxious. She let out a quiet sigh and turned to pour steaming liquid into a small bowl. Carefully placing it on the tray, she cast an eye over the contents: bread, a bowl of broth, folded squares of cloth and a gourd of clear rainwater. Satisfied, she picked up the tray and turned to face Geldan again. 

"You have already expressed your concern, Hunter, and I have taken that into account. Still, this must be done." She began walking to the door, but Geldan stepped in front of her. 

"Yes, but by you?" His frown deepened. "The man is dangerous, Allorah." 

"I am aware." She replied calmly. When he made no sign of moving, she sighed again and adopted a sterner tone. "Let me pass, Geldan." 

His jaw tightened in frustration, but he stepped aside and she swept smoothly out the door. He apparently wasn't finished, however, and fell into step beside her as she made her way along the wooden pathway. 

The breeze from earlier had gathered strength and grown to a playful wind that tugged at her skirts as she walked and teased some of her sable curls from the confines of her braid. It carried on it the rich suggestions of summer and the fresh aroma of warm leaves. The trees swayed subtly to its rhythm, and the buildings and bridges with them. The comforting creak of rope and wood filled her ears. 

"Why, though, do you need to be in there alone with him? If something should happen—" 

"We have been through this!" Allorah snapped, her patience wearing thin after half an hour of such objections. "You and the other Hunters already tried interrogating him, and have nothing to show for it. Even the little he apparently said is useless, for it is in another language altogether!" 

She pressed her lips together and drew a calming breath through her nose, attempting to make her tone even and reasonable once again. "I must be there alone so that I can gain some measure of his trust. You know as well as I that he will not speak while you or any other Hunter is present. And it must be me because no other in the village has the same knowledge of languages as I do. I am the only one who can perhaps grasp his language quickly enough to be of any use to us. You know this." That, and Varyn had, for some reason recommended her. She did not yet know why, but she felt compelled to trust his lead. 

"I do," he muttered reluctantly, though his expression remained frustrated. 

They continued along the network of suspended paths until they reached the entrance to what was once an old set of storerooms, but had since been hastily converted to a basic sort of prison. Though not ideal, it had been determined the best place to serve the purpose, both for being far enough out of the way of the majority of the homes, and for having a single entrance and tough walls, most of which were the tree itself. Allorah noted the sturdiness of the outer door upon passing through, and that a thick bolt had been newly fitted to one of the doors leading further into the building. The few windows let in minimal light at this time of day, so a torch had been lit to illuminate the outer chamber where a guard sat vigilantly on the single piece of furniture in the room: a plain wooden bench. 

Allorah paused outside of the door to the makeshift cell. The Hunter on guard next to it stood and nodded his head respectfully at her, then at Geldan. Nodding back at him, she braced the tray against one hip and reached up with her other hand to brush the escaped tendrils of hair out of her eyes. 

"I'm ready." She said. 

"You need only call if you need any assistance," the Hunter reminded her as he reached over to unbolt the door and grasp the handle. 

"I will remain here as well." Geldan declared, his tone forceful. "If he gives you any trouble at all—" 

"I will call." Allorah finished for him. "You may open the door, Hunter." The guard nodded again, and pulled the door open enough for her to step through. 

As it swung closed again, Allorah paused to let her eyes adjust to the sudden gloom. The one window had been covered with a thick piece of cloth, perhaps to keep its occupant disoriented as to the time of day, or just enhance the feeling of isolation. Still, she knew better than to fumble around blindly, so she waited until she could see enough of the room to find her way safely to the window. Carefully setting the tray on the floor, she felt for the edges of the crude drapery before drawing it up and tucking it out of the way. She blinked rapidly in the sudden light for a moment before turning back to the man seated in the center of the room. 

He squinted in her direction, his face distorted with hatred and the beatings he had received at the hands of her kinsmen, his pale yellow hair matted with sweat, and on one side, blood. His wrists were bound tightly with rope that kept them extended to either side of him, fastened as they were to stakes pounded solidly into the floor. His ankles were likewise bound in front of him so that he sat with knees bent and arms open. He had enough slack in his bonds to shift his limbs a few inches in either direction, but not to lay down, and as he was in the middle of the room, he couldn't even seek respite by leaning back against the wall. Nor, Allorah realized, would he be able to bring his hands to his mouth to feed himself. 

She took a few steps to the side so that her back was no longer directly in the light and returned his stare impassively, waiting for him to be able to see her properly before making any further movement. It was apparent enough when the moment came: his eyes first widened in surprise, then narrowed again as his mouth twisted in scorn. He turned his face away, scoffing, and spat on the floor. 

Allorah waited. 

He kept his face averted as the steam from the broth slowly dissipated and disappeared and the wind outside made the smaller branches bob and sway. His eyes remained stubbornly on a knothole in the wood of the wall as she sat down next to the tray and continued watching him silently. He even managed to ignore her when she picked up the gourd of water and took a small sip, setting it down again on the tray when she was finished. Still, he remained silent, and still, she waited. 

At last, his patience came to an end. 

"Rjork granash mil freetha!" He finally snapped. "Janad viir vind." 

"I cannot understand you," she replied mildly. "Not yet. You will have to speak slowly." 

He sneered at her, the hostility in the lines of his face tempered only by his contempt. She did not rise to the gesture, instead waiting again for him to make another concession. 

"Feh." He scoffed again. "Rameeth grah mjorled." He let out a disgusted sigh then looked at the tray, scowling. "Janad viir vind." 

She followed his gaze to the tray, then pointed to the bread. "This?" She asked, watching his face. 

"Ne!" He said, frustrated. "Mjelka ket breetha..." He jerked his head in the direction of the tray again, saying vehemently, "Viir vind!" 

Allorah moved her finger slowly over the tray to point at the water gourd instead, asking this time, "Water? Viir vind?" 

"Vind! Va!" He said in the long-suffering tones of someone talking to a simpleton who has finally caught on. Then, when she didn't move quickly enough, he added, "Gornind mil kort lesh!" 

Allorah picked up the gourd, rising slowly. His pale eyes followed her impatiently as she walked to stand a few feet in front of him, well out of his reach but closer than she had been before. She waggled the gourd between her fingers slowly, hearing the water slosh around inside, and met his impatient stare calmly. 

"I will give you water, vind," she told him, "But I will not untie you. You must remain still when I approach, or I will call for my kinsmen and you will have no water. Ne vind. You understand?" 

He did not. His eyes narrowed and he looked at her warily then at the water in her hand. "Ril lorl vet. Janad viir vind." His shoulders gave a shrug. 

Allorah decided to switch tactics. She pointed to him, then made a "stop," gesture to him with her free hand. She pointed to the gourd, pointed at her mouth, then at him, and mimed pouring water. Her eyebrows raised in question. 

"Va, va." He said, nodding quickly, "Viir vind!" 

Drawing a quiet breath, Allorah stepped forward slowly until she stood at his side, close enough to touch him. Or for him to touch her, if he so chose. But he remained still, only tilting his head back to stare at her with eyes slightly narrowed, wary and assessing. She opened her mouth and pointed, indicating he should open his own. When he complied, she slowly tipped the gourd to poor the clear liquid into his mouth, careful to give him only so much as he could drink without trouble. 

He swallowed greedily, drinking as though he'd not in days, which, she remembered, might not be too far from the truth. When she had emptied about three quarters of the gourd, she stepped back again and he scowled. 

"Vrameeth kol magronesh? Ki meth jorkol!" 

She ignored his outburst, instead moving back to the tray and returning with the bread and broth. When he saw what she held in her hands, he quieted, though he still watched her cautiously. They went through much the same process as he devoured both broth and bread. 

Allorah noted, as she went about her task, that though he wore a full beard, as yellow as the rest of his hair, and small wrinkles fanned from the corners of his pale blue eyes, the rest of his skin was unlined by the passage of time. In her estimation, he couldn't be more than five and twenty years of age. Her mouth tightened as she remembered that apparently twenty-five years was all it took to kill enough of her people to achieve an officer's rank. 

Finished, she stepped back again, and returned to the tray once more. With her back to him, she wetted a corner of one of the cloths with some of the remaining water before approaching him with it. He squinted at her suspiciously, a frown making his brow crease unevenly, thanks to the significant swelling around one of his eyes. Allorah thought she'd begin by wiping away some of the dried blood around that area. 

His reaction when she touched him, however, was not what she'd expected. 

"Vra griinid meer ket!" He jerked away from her fingers as if burned, his expression a wild mixture of disgust and something else. If Allorah didn't know any better, she almost would have thought it was fear she saw in his pale eyes. "Miik jork lek mish, kol shek!" 

Her eyebrows raised in surprise at the vehemence of his reaction. When he showed no sign of calming, she slowly lowered her hand with the cloth and stepped away, smoothing her face back to impassivity. She spent one more moment examining him, his shoulders hunched up protectively, his eyes hateful slits of suspicion, then she shrugged. Curious. But if he didn't want her to clean his wounds, she wouldn't press it. 

It was a quick matter to stack all the items she had brought with her back onto the tray for easy carrying, and to let the cloth over the window fall back into place. Though she would have rather left it open for the light, she was concerned that when it grew dark, the chill from the draft would work unfortunate effects on the room's occupant, and she was not interested in having to nurse him back to health from a cold-induced fever. She would do what was necessary, but the less time she had to spend in his company, the better. 

Since she had a better sense of the lay of the room this time, she simply made her way along the walls, feeling with her hand, until her palm bumped against the handle of the door. Allorah raised her hand and rapped softly against the wood twice. 

"I am finished," she called through. 

Immediately, she heard the sound of the bolt being drawn back, and the door swung open to reveal Geldan waiting for her anxiously. 

"Are you all right?" He took her elbow and drew her forward while the other guard shut and bolted the door behind her. "I heard him shouting..." 

"I'm fine," she replied distractedly. What would make him react so to simple medical attention? And hardly any attention at that; she'd barely touched him before he started making a fuss. 

Geldan regarded her with a worried frown. "You are sure?" 

"Mm?" She asked, finally looking up at him with her full attention. "Oh. Yes. I'm quite all right." 

He didn't seem convinced. "...He didn't try anything, did—?" 

"He was tied to the floor, Geldan," she reminded him wryly. "The worst he did, the worst he could do, was curse at me." 

The Hunter blinked in surprise. "He cursed? You can tell that already?" 

Allorah gave a tight smile. "There are certain tones a man uses only when cursing. I don't need to know the language to be able to tell that." 

"Oh." 

A glance outside told her by the angle of the shadows that it was already afternoon. Hours spent in that room, and very little to show for it. "It will take time," she said aloud, as much remind herself as to inform him. 




The Warrior Ch. 05



Geldan gave a frustrated sigh. "But we don't have time, Allorah. At the point that you learn enough to be able to understand him, his information will already be so outdated that..." He stopped himself then, lowering his gaze and nodding deferentially. "My apologies. I don't mean to question you." 

Allorah looked at him tiredly, and sighed too. Though only two years her senior, she could see visible signs in his face of the toll the war and his hasty rise to leadership had taken on him. "No," she said slowly. "You're right; it's too slow. We will need to think of something else." 

He glanced at her, frowning. "But what?" 

"I... I don't know." Idly, her amethyst eyes drifted down to the tray she carried as she thought. "I shall consult with Priestess Dannonae." Her voice, even to her own ears sounded weary. 

Geldan opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again, exhaling sharply through his nose. He nodded again to her. 

"In the meantime, I will continue to provide him food, and I request that no one else enter the room in my absence. Is that acceptable?" It was still important to establish a level of trust, or at least dependence, if the prisoner were to say anything to her. 

"Yes. I will relay your wishes to the rest of the Hunters involved." He bowed but kept his gaze away from her face. "Be well, Allorah." And with that, he strode back to the guard at the cell, the discussion finished. 

She watched him go, a heaviness coming over her. Then, taking a deep breath, she turned and started her walk back to the nearest communal kitchen to dispose of the dirty dishes and tray. 

Nodding to the women at work around the small area, Allorah set the tray next to a small pile of dirty dishes waiting to be washed, then paused. On impulse, she retrieved the cloth she had attempted to clean the young prisoner's wounds with. Only the smallest smudge of blood darkened one corner, tribute to the limited success of her effort. Still, it was enough. 

Enough for what? She wondered, even as she thought it, but she held the cloth tight as she exited the building and went in search of Dannonae.



The Warrior Goddess



Erica reeled from the force of the overhand right.

It was a little stronger than she anticipated; her vision swirled, the cries of the surrounding crowd faded. For a moment even she wondered if she was going to stay on her feet, but she managed to pull herself back together in time to see Juarez charge her for the finishing blow.

Of all the people Erica had known in her so-called career, Pablo Juarez was, hands down, the biggest asshole she ever squared off against. Oh, he could back it up, sure; the 5'5", 197 lb. man moved like a fox and hit like a tank. Erica was not afraid to admit that his undefeated record was earned.

And it wasn't even the comments he made. Being a woman in this environment -- a young white woman, no less -- meant that she was going to hear some nasty shit from her male competitors. Juarez claiming that he was going to rape her in the pit in front of everyone? Compared to what she had heard throughout her rise to the top, the threat was adorable. However, the psychological warfare had moved beyond words and into infuriating emotional terrorism. Her friends started getting viciously attacked. Late night phone calls became routine. She even received cum-stained pictures of her getting changed in the locker room. Juarez had really crossed the line between "psyching out your opponent" and "being a total dick."

It angered Erica, but she knew that was the point. So she played along, tearfully threatening to kill Juarez, cut him up into pieces, mail his dick to his mother, blah, blah, vengeance, blah. That would make Juarez confident that she had been softened up, and he would stick to his usual gameplan. He wouldn't have the incentive to figure out that, amongst other critical weaknesses that Erica would exploit during their sixteen minute brawl, he left his midsection open whenever he charged his opponent.

Erica sidestepped Juarez's charge and quickly pivoted in time to land a devastating kick to his stomach. With Juarez doubled over from the surprise blow, Erica landed a powerful right uppercut that knocked him flat on his ass.

The crowd started coming back into focus now, and the sudden change in momentum had them going apeshit. Erica fed off the energy, delivering a few spirited stomps to Juarez's stomach. When she was pretty sure she felt the crack of a rib under her foot, she pinned his shoulders with her knees and started pounding on his face for all she was worth.

When the referee finally stopped the fight, Juarez's face was a distorted red mass that could only mutter semi-conscious gibberish. For good measure, Erica grabbed his limp right hand and twisted it until she heard a sickening snap. And before the ref could pull her away, she managed to yell in Juarez's ear "Have fun jerking off to my picture now, you dumb motherfucker."

Her work done, the bruised and bloodied Erica stood in the center of the ring and posed victoriously for the crowd. The 26-year-old minx had started as a novelty in mob kingpin Lou Torretto's underground fighting circuit a couple of years ago. The area the fights took place in was referred to as "The Pit", situated in the basement of a dingy gym Torretto owned. The Pit itself was a large circle dug in-ground, closed off by chicken wire and surrounded by cheap bleachers. It was a little less chaotic than the typical fight club and, despite the outwardly appearance, attracted a decent class of people.

Torretto's first impression of Erica was that she was some crazy bitch with a death wish. Everyone, himself included, expected her to get dominated by her stronger, heavier male opponents. That first match was practically sold as a comedy: "This stupid broad just graduated college and her idea of rebelling against Daddy is to throw down with feral brawlers twice her size! This is a five spiral crash, boys!" When she won it by submission after fifteen minutes, it was written off as a fluke. So she won the second fight by knockout in seven minutes; it still wasn't good enough. So she went on an incredible 14-win streak that was long enough to turn her ironic appeal into genuine adoration amongst follower and fighter alike. When she finally did lose -- by knockout in a 45-minute epic -- she was applauded. Torretto later remarked that he had never seen anything like it in his 17 years running The Pit; there were people who lost a lot of money on her, too drunk on the spectacle to be angry. They actually laughed as they cut checks for as high as two hundred large.

Her scrappy personality was a big part of her popularity, but it helped that she was easy to look at. The only traditionally beautiful qualities she had were natural 36C breasts and a firm hourglass figure, shown off quite nicely by the dark grey sports bra and gym shorts she wore in the pit. Otherwise, Erica's dark brown hair was cut short to give her opponents one less thing to grab, and her body was covered in tattoos.

The designs weren't overly elaborate or even colorful, but she had line drawings of angel wings on her shoulders and upper back, connecting to an abstract design above her breasts that prominently featured a large fleur de lis above her cleavage (which was slight in a sports bra that held down her boobs). Below that, spanning the width of her taut stomach, was a design featuring the word "Salvation" hanging tantalizingly below her navel. Another small abstract design sat on the small of her back. All in all, Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Model was not her look, but nobody seemed to mind.

Erica watched as Juarez was carried off by a couple of Torretto's thugs, and smiled. Torretto had found out about the shit Juarez was pulling, and was ready to fuck him up at the drop of a hat. Erica asked him to let her handle things in The Pit before deciding if he wanted to break off a piece (literally, as Torretto put it) for himself. She thought the beating she doled out would've been enough.

"Guess I thought wrong," she told herself.

Torretto allowed his fighters full use of the gym's locker rooms to get cleaned up and changed in. However, the "male" and "female" designations were largely ignored; both rooms were used for the benefit of separating fighters who still wanted to kill each other before and after a fight. Torretto never expected to have a woman fighting under his banner and wasn't about to change things just because one was crazy enough to sign up.

It didn't bother Erica, though. After her headlining bout, she hung out in the exercise area, icing the night's bruises and treating any cuts while her male cohorts finished showering and dressing. She suspected that these days she could shower with the boys without much grief, but out of respect -- not to mention basic common sense -- she waited her turn.

After a few playful parting shots to her opponent for next month, Erica was finally alone. Juarez had used the Women's Room this week, so all things being equal, Erica left her stuff in the Men's Room to avoid him. She went there to take her shower.

The hot water felt damn good on her sore body, and she sighed in relief as she began to scrub the grime of the fight off of her, wincing as she brushed over the occasional bruise.

She thought about Juarez's threat to rape her in front of everyone, in the middle of The Pit. While everything else was unnerving as hell, the threat itself didn't bother her. She wondered why; she had been raped before, and what little of it she could remember was far from pleasant. Her best guess was that Juarez's threat wasn't grounded in the actual violence of rape (though that was definitely present), but rather the shame and humiliation of being exposed and rendered helpless in front of a crowd that normally saw her as untouchable.

Try as she might, Erica found no shame or humiliation in the idea of a hundred people watching her get fucked. The forced entry would be terrible, no doubt about it, but would it really be so bad if her fans -- who couldn't possibly perceive her as an innocent, despite the alias she fought under -- saw her naked?

Erica closed her eyes. Her hand traveled downward toward the sparse tuft of hair above her entrance.

She replayed the fight with Juarez in her mind, but rewrote the ending. This time, Juarez knocked her down. It was her shoulders pinned to the earthen floor. He looked out to a crowd that was anxious to see his next move.

Erica twirled the hairs of her muff around her finger.

Juarez backed away from her carefully, not wanting to give her too much space to make a move, as if she could -- or would. He reached out and clutched the front of her cheap sports bra. With a powerful yank, he ripped it clean off her chest, exposing her firm, smooth, tattooed chest to a fan base that was always curious as to what her tits looked like.

As the crowd in her head roared with approval, Erica's other hand began to toy with and tweak her puffy nipples. The hand that ventured south began to massage the skin just outside her lips; they began to ache about as much as her wounds, but in a much different way.

Juarez flipped Erica around and hauled her little shorts off of her ass, inciting the crowd even further. As he pulled off his own shorts, the crowd started a chant: "Fuuuuck her! Fuuuuck her!" Erica felt a hand on her neck pushing her into the ground, then felt the entire weight of Juarez on top of her. His hot breath blew in her ear as his solid eight inches slid into her tunnel.

Erica shuddered as her fingers plunged into her depths. The crowd had never been louder or more approving, and as always, she fed off of it. She moaned like a whore, determined to turn this debasement into empowerment, determined to make Juarez angrier so he could drill her harder. And after she had her fun, she'd turn it around with a chop to the throat and make him pay for thinking he could humiliate her. She'd beat him so bad, he'd have to learn to walk all over again. His plan would backfire; she wouldn't be a helpless rape victim, she'd be a warrior goddess who allowed his disrespectful ass to penetrate her out of perverse curiosity and convenience.

Warrior goddess...the way it sounded in her head was sublime, turning her on even further. An idealized woman, the perfect fantasy of men, representing the fighters of The Pit. As adept at pleasure as she was at pain. She would honor many with her presence, but bless only the most worthy with her embrace, and damn the insolent with total annihilation of the spirit -- which, of course, would include partial annihilation of the body.

Her mind drifted back to The Pit as her fingers picked up speed, but the rational side of her brain kicked in, reminding her that an angry Juarez was likely to disfigure her. It was just enough to flutter her eyes open and catch sight of the shadow being cast on the wall.

The irony of stopping (or at least slowing down) her impromptu masturbation session because a stranger was watching was not lost on Erica, but if some jackass who stayed behind was going to pounce on her, she wanted to be ready to fight him on general principle. She continued her movements, pretending not to see anything, waiting to see if the shadow was going to make a move of his own.

It didn't. She decided to call him out. "Hey, shithead," she demanded without turning around, "What do you want to do?"

"Oh, fuck! I'm sorry," the shadow exclaimed as it disappeared. She heard footsteps moving towards the exit.

"You're SORRY?" Erica called out, almost laughing.

"Yeah," said the voice from outside, "I didn't think a woman would be in here, I'll just go--"

"No no, wait up," Erica said, impulsively. If a friend walked in on her, they likely would've went about their business, maybe stealing an occasional glance. If he wasn't so friendly, he'd just jump her. She never imagined anybody just staring at her without making a move before. Hell, for that matter, she never imagined anyone apologizing for it.

Either way, the footsteps stopped, and she was interested.

"So," she asked the throughway that led to the locker room proper, "you see me masturbating in the shower and not once do you think 'I should give her a hand?'"

"I wasn't raised that way," said the voice; Erica detected a bit of a Midwestern tinge in it. "Besides, I saw you fight. I don't know if I could take you. You're Angel, right?"

"Angel" was indeed Erica's alias, as in "Angel of The Pit," named for the tattoos on her shoulders. And the admission that she could kick his ass made her laugh.

"So," she said, "You're a fan?"

"Well, yeah," said the voice, "But I'm here because the guy that runs things booked me for a match next week, and I wanted to get a lay of the place."

"Mmmm," Erica smiled, "Fresh meat." Erica backed up a bit and turned off the shower. "You're pretty humble for someone who's supposed to be a fighter. Humble fighters tend to get chewed up around here."

"I believe that," the voice admitted, "But Mr. Torretto said I was built for it, and I like the money he's offering, so I guess we'll see."

Erica pondered her next move. The appropriate thing to do would be to just let him leave, get dressed, and wish him good luck on the way out. Tonight, however, presented extenuating circumstances. This guy wouldn't fulfill the vivid fantasy that was about to bring her off, but horny was horny, and the fact that she hadn't even seen his face yet was an odd turn on. Besides, with the Midwestern accent and the possible fighter's build, he was a likely hottie.

The only concern at this point was scaring the poor guy off. But if he was the type to stick around on her request, maybe it would be okay.

"Well," she said, "Maybe I should get a look at you."

"Okay...you're decent now?"

"Do you really want me to be?" she smirked.

The rational part of her brain warned her about the trouble she was in. If it got out that she banged another fighter, the respect she had built up with everyone else on the circuit would crumble. Everyone would forget that she was not to be fucked with and focus on the fact that she would put out under the right circumstance.

The man behind the voice showed himself. He was a young man -- couldn't have been any older than 22 -- but he was tall and solid, with short blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, wearing a football jersey and sweatpants that had a sizable tent poking out of them. He was a corn-fed hunk, all right, the cheap clothes adding to his oddly arousing humility. Erica told the rational part of her brain to shut the fuck up and let her have this.

"Take off your shirt," she said.

He did so, cautiously, revealing that he was built like a Marine.

Erica nodded in approval. "Oh yeah, you've got the body for it."

He smiled, and took a deep breath as Erica slinked forward. "Angel?" he asked.

"Yes?" she purred, closing the distance.

"Are we going to have sex?" he asked, wiping his forehead.

Erica stopped short, just a foot away from the man's frame. He had six inches and fifty pounds on her, and yet she completely owned him. She glanced down at his erection, then looked back into his eyes as she played with the waistband of his sweatpants. 

She asked him "Do you want to?"

And all he could do was nod.

Erica briefly considered pulling his pants down, but instead took his hands and guided them to her chest. "Touch my tits," she instructed, and he grasped her firm breasts with both hands. "No," she ordered, grabbing his wrists, "TOUCH them. Like this." She guided his hands, brushing his rough fingertips across the smooth skin of her boobs, shivering as they dragged over the buds of her nipples.

Erica let go, and the stranger -- her stranger -- got the message, using his fingertips to trace the lines of her body, starting with the fleur sitting on top of her chest, down to the outline of her breasts and the grooves of her abs, finishing with the lettering above her cleft.

"Salvation?" he read.

"Get down on your knees and see for yourself."

Once again, he complied. As Erica pressed her partner's face into her aching pussy, she decided that having an anonymous sex slave was the best thing ever. "Oh yeah," she ordered, "Lick that cunt!"

Her stranger moaned, sending a little jolt through her center as he lapped at her swollen lips.

"Mmm, yeah! You like how I taste?" He grunted affirmatively, sending another tingle through her. "OHH, yeah, that's it, baby! You like my idea of salvation?" This coaxed another appreciative grunt out of her partner, a long one that drove Erica wild, just as he started snaking his tongue into her passage.

"YEAH! Keep telling me how much you love it," she cried as she began to grind his face as hard as she could. Her stranger moaned, hummed, and licked to his heart's content, bringing his Angel closer and closer to the edge. Once his tongue popped out to swipe at her clit, it was all over. She leaned backwards and froze in place as hot fire shot through her, tensing her up. She crushed her stranger's head against her crotch and howled as she went over.

The fire subsided, and Erica relaxed, easing up on her poor partner. She stood up straight and helped him to his feet with every intention of returning the favor. Until, that is, an idea crossed her mind.

"Have you been inside The Pit yet?" she asked.

***

Erica led her servant straight to the basement without throwing any clothes on. She found her way to the control booth with little problem and flipped a switch, flooding The Pit with light. It seemed different when it was just her and someone else; with a full crowd, the place seemed active and electric. Now, the emptiness was crushing, yet strangely intimate for such an open space.

"So this is where I'm fighting?" he asked, having already descended the steps into the sunken circle.

"It's where you will be fighting," corrected Erica as she slinked down the steps and over to his side at the very center of The Pit. The hot light on her naked skin made her feel deliciously exposed, and she couldn't resist giving her vulva a little rub before guiding her man onto his back. "Right now, it's where we're fucking."

"Well," he remarked, "It's an interesting place to have sex."

Erica smiled, sinking down alongside him and kissing him full on the lips. When she broke it, she said "When you caught me in the shower, I had come up with a new fantasy for myself."

"Oh?" he asked, as Erica began to crawl back towards his waist.

"Mmm," she confirmed as she began to play with the tent in his pants. "I pictured myself as a warrior goddess, who would bless the most worthy of the gladiators she watched over by fucking them senseless. And what better place to do that than the hallowed ground they fight on?"

"That's definitely hot," he agreed, though he could have been talking about the handjob that Erica was giving him through his sweatpants. "So what happens? With her blessing the gladiator is guaranteed victory?"

"That would be cool," Erica remarked, "Though I certainly wouldn't count on my pussy having magical powers."

"Well, I don't mind pretending," he said.

"Okay," Erica agreed as she slid his sweats over his hips, "Let's pretend."

With her man finally completely naked, Erica took a good look at his cock. It wasn't anything special at seven inches with average girth, but she still thought "It's beautiful!"

"Really?"

"I think the shape is perfect," she remarked as she dipped her head towards his crotch. "It's a true warrior's cock, from base..." She touched the tip of her tongue to the base of his dick, and slowly traced up to the head. "...to tip." She then swallowed the head whole and sucked down to the root in one gulp. She could tell from his groan that his balls were boiling, but somehow he held off. She decided that she didn't want to bring him off with her mouth; it was going to be her snatch that did him in.




The Warrior Goddess



After a couple of passes to coat him with enough saliva, Erica crawled forward and sat up, bringing her cunt in contact with the rigid member. "Are you ready for your blessing, my warrior?"

"Yes, Goddess," he said, playing along to Erica's delight. With that, she lifted herself up and positioned his dick for entry. She teased the head, looked down at her loyal subject, and gave him a sly wink.

Then she sat down, squeezing him into her wet folds. "Oh, SHIT, you're so tight," he exclaimed as the last few inches were stuffed in. With a smile, she leaned forward and place her hands on his rigid pecs.

"Mmm," she moaned as she began bouncing leisurely on his cock, "you feel so good inside me. How do I look on top of you?"

"Oh, you definitely look like a goddess," he said, "In fact, I think you are one, whether or not you think you're pretending!"

"Is that so?"

"Uh-huh!"

"You feel honored that I chose to fuck you?"

"Yeah!"

"You feel blessed by this stranger wrapping her tight twat around your gorgeous cock?"

"OHH, yeah!"

"Mmm, then you should lie back and enjoy this," she finished, "The best is yet to come."

Erica sat back up and closed her eyes, letting the warm floodlights and the body underneath her take her away. She recalled the crowd from her earlier fantasy, excited by the prospect of being graced with a different kind of performance from her. She recalled their chant -- "Fuuuuck her! Fuuuuck her!" And now, instead of the odious Juarez who was merely convenient, there was this handsome stud, who had earned the right to be with her just by the grace of being different than the testosterone-drunk brawlers that usually surrounded her.

She pumped his dick harder and harder, hearing his groans over the cheers of the crowd. She thrust her tits out for display, exuding power and grace. She was proud of her beauty, proud to be seen with the man under her. She felt the lights and sounds reach into her and change her blood into liquid energy, charging her for release. Then she opened her eyes and looked down at her man: hands splayed out, afraid to touch. Eyes open, face contorted. His beautiful hairless torso, bobbing up and down erratically as he struggled to control his breathing and motions.

She knew what had to happen to bring the both of them over.

"Sit up," Erica instructed, and he did so, giving her breasts a few generous swipes with his tongue. She then laid herself down on the dirt and grunted "Finish me!"

It was like she unleashed a caged animal. He held her down and pounded her like a jackhammer, and she loved it. It was all too much: the hot lights reaching into her and putting her on display to an audience of no one, the feeling of her breasts pistoning violently back and forth and the hard dirt scratching her back, the look of wild, unrestrained lust on his innocent face, and his sweat splashing on to her and mingling with her own. Finally, he leaned down and gave his goddess a kiss, and it was all over. She shouted to the heavens as she exploded into a million beams of energy.

"Oh fuck," she barely heard over the sound of her own voice, "I'm gonna cum!"

"ON ME," she shouted.

"On you?"

"OH YEAH, spray that cum all over me, MMMMMM! Show your goddess how much you love her!"

And that was it for him. The moment he pulled out, a white hot jet of cum shot out and traveled all the way up to Erica's face, gluing her right eye shut. He roared through the rest of his incredible volley; Erica twitched and groaned in a mini-orgasm as several shots landed on her neck, her chest tattoo, her tits, and her stomach. The last of it dribbled out over the word "Salvation".

Erica laughed as she came down from her orgasm, in awe of the huge load that she was anointed with. She wiped away only the cum on her eye, then glanced down to admired the thick streaks of goo splashed all over her torso. "Oh, boy!" she giggled, "Don't I feel appreciated?"

"Thank you," he said, "By the way, my name's--"

"Ssh," Erica interrupted, "Not important." She pulled herself up and gave her loyal subject a kiss on the mouth, followed by a peck on his deflated dong, inadvertently waking it up.

"See," he laughed, "You really are a goddess."

With a smile, Erica took him into her warm, wet mouth. She had no intention of letting him out until he was ready to paint her face with his second offering.

***

"Corn-Fed" "Joe Franklin" shocked the next week's audience by knocking out his very first opponent -- unbeknownst to him, the very same person who handed Erica her first loss -- in a 71-second microwave fight. Erica saw the whole thing, laughing at the suddenly valid theory that her pussy had magical powers.

She wondered if Joe would ask to sleep with her again for continued good luck, and while she positively gushed at the notion, she decided that he hadn't earned the honor. Sure, for all she knew, he probably busted his ass getting ready for the match, but if she really was a goddess, then he hadn't really won it on his own. She had to save her gift for truly special occasions; great power, great responsibility, and all that. Even if it was just sexual fantasy...well, that's what made the fantasy so novel.

Now, if he happened to beat her fair and square during a match...



The Warrior in Her



He awoke alone, His arm reaching over to her furs to pull her closer to Him encountering nothing. His eyes snapped open with a start; quickly adjusting themselves to the early morning gloom ... He sat up, His eyes sweeping the room for her and saw her nowhere. Concern lined His face, she was always there, where could she be? 

He rose and threw on His doeskins quickly... the Bowie snuggling into the sheathe on His back and strode out into the halls of the palace, why was it so quiet? Where was the hustle of the monks heading to pray, the slaves cleaning, and the soldiers on guard? Everywhere the sound of silence and emptiness greeted Him, Moving quietly like a tiger He slipped from hall to hall, up and down corridors frequently and seldom used until He was almost at the temple.

A dull roar erupted from the temple rooms ... echoing through the silent stone halls of the Palace ... the clash of wood and metal meeting, shrieks of rage and grunts becoming louder the closer He was to the temple doors ... then another roar and some applause .... again the sounds of combat, because that was the only sound like that, biting through the silence. A scream like the large cat of the jungles below told Him who at least one of the combatants was ... He recognized the sound of His girls voice, He'd heard it so many times like this during the wars, standing side by side with Him as the bodies piled around them. His hand slid back without even thinking and as He kicked open the temple doors the Bowie was in His hand vibrating in bloodlust...

There was a crowd of slaves and soldiers gathered around what appeared to be a circle of monks in the middle of the temple floor... cheering and gasps intermingling with laughter and surprise ... some of the soldiers were moving back and forth through the crowd gathering bets and slave girls were swooning with the excitement of whatever was going on in the middle of that circle.

He drew close to the back of the crowd, moving silently as He always did (a fact which was very disconcerting to His people when He caught them by surprise like now) ... He coughed and a low pitched growl suddenly filled the air ... heads turned and slaves fell to the floor .. soldiers stood straight and proud ... all noticing the Bowie in His hand ... the monks however were too intent on the circle to feel His eyes upon them ... He saw a staff rise high in the air, spinning like a propeller and fall back into the crowd to be met by the flash of a small sword and a grunt that He instantly recognized.

Finally, He stood behind the monks, taller than they He looked to see what was going on and a grin split His previously worried face. His girl was standing off three of the young battle monks which served as His private guard. Her sword flashing back and forth, her feet flying in the dance moves that she had adapted so well for combat, she stymied them at every turn and had them backing up slowly. The look on her face was ecstasy, she loved this ... born to be a warrior she had been hard to train as a pleasure slave, a lesser Man might have given up and rejected her, but He had made sure she could fight with the best of His men, that she could deal with people with diplomacy (even though that was a lesson she still needed constant attention with), that if He should be absent for any prolonged period of time His vision and leadership would be in the best possible hands. 

His Men recognized it; the citizens of the valley worshipped her, her beauty and heart touching them all individually so many times they had lost count. He chuckled as she disarmed first one then a second and backed the third to the floor pinned with her sword at His throat, the look in His eyes furious with being beaten by a woman. He would have to keep an eye on that one, He was young and though a capable fighter, He had a temper that if uncontrolled would get Him killed ... He stepped through the crowd and picked up one of the staffs. She turned her head to look at Him and then dropped to her knees, head down, sword at her side ... hands palm up on her thighs ... "good morning Master, I expected to be back sooner, but they fought well"

He suddenly stepped back and swung the staff at her... straight down in a sweeping arc, His eyes lit up when she automatically grabbed her sword and parried the blow, her legs curling under her and launching her to the side and into position ... Master, what are you doing, she said calmly .. her eyes watching Him carefully ... without a word He attacked... the staff spinning and thrusting over, down... back and around ... her eyes following His as He had trained her ... each blow sliding past her due to her skill ... the crowd gathered back in to watch the Lord of the Valley duel with His girl. They moved like a trained dance troupe... in and out, back and forth... weaving, dodging, blocking and then thrusting and swinging.... the weapons moving faster and faster ... the staff in His hands nothing but a blur ... impossible for any but the most trained eye to follow, the sword in hers as deadly as a viper and much much faster ... a sudden thrust a flick of His wrist and a turn to sweep at her feet left the sword flying through the air and the girl laying on her back on the stone floor ... the staff at her throat. Mixed cheers from His soldiers and sighs of disappointment from the slavegirls who looked to her for leadership filled the room ... He stood over His girl... eyes locked with hers and dropped the ironwood staff to the floor... leaning down He grabbed her hair and drew her up to her feet then threw her over His shoulder with a delighted laugh ... and to the victor go the spoils, He roared. 

The room burst out in glee as He turned and ran with the flailing girl over His shoulder back to the palace, her small frame bouncing on His shoulder and a blush filling her face as she looked back at the crowd waving to T/them ... . He moved quickly thru the familiar passages ... His lust growing by the moment, combat always aroused Him and He could smell the excitement on His girl as well ... into His chambers they sped ,... His foot swinging out and kicking back to slam the door shut then spinning with His girl and pinning her against it .. one hand in her hair gripping tightly ... forcing her eyes to His .. the other reaching down to her tunic and ripping it from her ..

Sweat glistened all over her from the exertions and He leaned to lick the salt from her shoulder .. His hand sliding down her belly between them to grab hold of her cunt and squeeze ... she moaned into His ear .. Master, I must bathe first .. girl is dirty, she smells of sweat ... please Sir let Me get presentable!

They had had this conversation before .... the smell of the leathers, the sweat and the salt ... the rise and fall of her breasts as she gasped for air ... the heated flesh .. all contributed to His lust. Her face turned bright red and her eyes fluttered closed as He growled into her ear ... yes, you are dirty, you stink, you smell like a common house wench ... as His fingers sunk into her cunny He whispered ... you reek like a cumslut ... you are My whore aren't you littleone?

Her whimper and moan said it all ... yes Master, i am Your whore ... i am Your slut ... i exist for Your pleasure, to satisfy Your needs. Thank You Master.

He dug His fingers deep into her .. curling them toward Him and pressing against her hot spot, His thumb rolled over and over her clitoris .. her hips bucking up to Him as she slipped quickly into the pleasure He summoned in her. This was where she longed to be always ... dancing on the tip of His lust ... responding to the animal in Him with her own passion ... reaching deeper and higher every time, His touch on her flesh her food, the look on His face her happiness ... the words from His mouth her soulquest ... He smashed His thumb down on her clitty and lifted her to her tiptoes with His fingers deep in her ... she knew that she couldn't hold out long like this and she knew that He knew it and was testing her ... finally, she cried out pitiably ... Master, please ... I need, I need .. oh god Master.

He looked at her with those wild eyes gone blue .. listening to her .. gauging her ... you need what slut? His fingers flexed brutally in her and sliding back He pounded them back deep into her ... smashing the palm of His hand into her clitoris ... what do you need littleone? What is it that you want more than anything? His fingers flew in and out of her .. fucking her savagely, His palm crashing into her clit repeatedly ... 

Her moans became louder and louder, her knees shaking, gave way and she was suspended by His fingers holding her up .. working her cunt into a dripping, sopping pool of flesh .. He leaned in close, bit her ear and growled ... do you need to cum littleone? Is that what all the noise is about? A long mock sighhhhhhh escaped from His lips into her ear ... 

Then cummmmmmmmm NOW!!! Her scream shattered the morning air ... her body lifting to Him in spasms, rocking and thrusting, forcing Him deeper into her .. her legs closed tight on His wrist and a long drawn out keening blasting from her lips .. just as the violence of her orgasm started to subside, He reached down with His other hand and twisted her clit violently ... all reason disappeared from her .. she was reduced to trembling and crying ... for the longest time she couldn't even breathe as her body relentlessly crashed back and forth ... the wall supporting her back and His fingers continuing to suspend her ... she finally collapsed on His hand her arms coming up to clutch at His arms ... her legs folding underneath her and her head dropping to her chest as she literally swooned from the sensation.

He caught her as she fell . sweeping her into His arms and carried her to the platform of furs ... laying her down He moved quickly to bind her spread-eagled to the rings holding the leather straps at the foot and head of the bed ... she came out of her fog slowly and looking up at Him blushed .. Master, oh My god ... 

As her arms reached towards Him they were caught back by the straps ... she panicked for a second ... testing all the bonds and then laid back her body writhing ... her tongue flicking across her lips ... More Master? He crawled up on the platform .. His shoulders rolling like a great cat ... His eyes piercing through her. She shivered as she saw Him approach ... those eyes, always so fierce and disconcerting when they were solid blue, the whites disappeared .. no pupil just a solid sky blue taking in every move, every thought, every reaction of her ... and reflecting pure animal savagery back.

He fell on her ... His teeth sinking into her thigh until blood welled into His mouth ... she cried out from the pain which slid up the nerves into her cunt ... she erupted into sensation again ... His eyes fixed on hers over her belly and across her breasts .. unblinking, fixed, frightening, but they evoked something in her that no other Man could. His tongue flicking across the bloody wound on her thigh and swallowing her fluid ... she could feel the flesh healing under His ministrations and then her body bowed in a tremendous arch .. .bound by the leather she was only able to push up as His mouth covered her cunt ... His tongue slipping between the lips and savoring the pink drooling flesh ... an almost inaudible growl issuing from His throat as He pierced her cunt ... His tongue pushing deep and true .. twisting and wiggling in her ... slashing against the nerves bundled there ... every lick sending her body into paroxysms of delight ... she came again ... unable to stop ... and soaked His face .. His mouth pursing over her cunt and drinking from the vessel of His lust ... "Miiiiiiiine", He moaned. 



The Warrior Succumbs



Drasco let her take his hand. She drew it slowly to her mouth and kissed the palm of his hand. She was staring so intently at him, he thought for a moment that she was willing this to happen. The next moment he thought that he just may not care, it was happening, and he wanted it to continue. 

She then raised her hand to touch his face. He reached for her and gently drew her tunic off of her shoulders. She let it fall to the floor, never breaking her gaze at him. He watched the amber flecks in her eyes flash slightly gold. She sighed deeply. 

He reached for her but stopped himself at running his fingertips over her shoulders. Her skin was soft and he could feel the firmness of her muscles. There was an old scar on her left shoulder that he stroked gently. He ran his hand over her collar and to her chin. He lifted her face to his and kissed her softly. She was still standing. He was overwhelmed with the desire to make her want him as badly as he wanted her. 

He broke the kiss and continued exploring her body with his fingertips. There was fresher scar, only a few months old, on her right breast. 

He ran his hand over it and asked, "Did it hurt." 

She looked away for a moment and answered, "Yes." 

He cupped her other breast and leaned down to gently kiss her nipple. She arched against his hand and did not so much as sigh as purr. She again locked eyes with him, but her gaze wasn't quite as firm. Her expression seemed so much softer than it had before. 

He ran his tongue across her chest, his arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her slightly. He hadn't realized how much smaller she was than he. She was so confident and strong that he hadn't noticed that she was a good deal shorter than he thought. He licked her other nipple. 

She purred again and her neck arched with pleasure. She made no move to touch him. He let himself enjoy her uncommon stillness. He picked her up, placing her in front of him as he sat on the chair. He slowly unlaced her leggings and slipped them off. He was surprised to see that she was wearing the same silk hose that were sold to noble women. Not that he'd ever seen them on anyone before. 

She seemed to hear this in his mind. And smiled at him. 

He thought, "much better than I imagined." 

She smiled at him so brightly at this that every muscle in his body tingled. He admired her for a moment, standing in front of him, naked except for the hose covering her legs from toe to the tops of her thighs, her body bathed in firelight. He looked at her and caught the flash of gold in her eyes. 

He lifted her leg gently, placing her foot on his thigh. He slid his fingers up the inside of her leg until he reached the ribbons lacing the stocking in place. He loosened the laces and gently uncovered her leg with both hands. He caressed her skin as he worked his way down. Her legs were dotted with bruises from the rough life she was leading, and he kissed each one as it was revealed. He had just reached her ankle when she raised her hand and placed it on her shoulder. He had no intention of stopping. 

She said, "Please don't stop." 

She caressed the side of his face and he turned his attentions to her other leg. He was unsure what to do as she stood naked before him. He was fully dressed. She seemed perfectly comfortable standing there under his gaze. He drew his eyes slowly over her and met her eye. The gold flashed again. He could no longer resist her and his desire to make her knees buckle no longer seemed as important. 

He groaned deep in his throat and stood, lifting her with him. He carried her to the bed, lying her down, letting his eyes roam over her as she stretched, affording him the most explicit view of her. He tried, he really did, to take his clothes off slowly, but he was after all, only human. She made an approving sound. He looked at her. 

She said, "You are beautiful." 

He had never had anyone say this to him before, and he never expected to hear this from a woman who had seen as much as she had. She sighed that purring sound again, and his body responded. 

She said, "As I said, you are beautiful." 

He blushed and she said, "It doesn't make you any less strong. That is part of your beauty." 

She locked eyes with him again. He sat on the bed beside her. She drew him into her arms and against her mouth. He wanted to savor every moment with this magical being. He pulled away from the kiss, knowing all too well how easy it would be to fall into that comfort. 

He remembered what she had shown him and ran his tongue down her throat. She arched her neck and moaned. He smiled against her skin and licked and nibbled her his way down her body, stopping for a few moments to lick and suck her nipples. She moaned louder. 

He murmured, "You taste sweet." 

She raised her hands and began to stroke his hair as he continued his way down her body. 

He gently spread her legs with his hands and began to lick and suck her where she had placed his hands before. She arched against his mouth. He raised his head and saw her looking down at him with the want he had been waiting for the gold flashed across her eyes and he drew himself up and kissed her deeply. He slipped his fingers into her. 

A ripple ran across her body and he continued to kiss and move his fingers in her. She moaned loudly and he felt her grip him hard. He could not make himself wait any longer. He drew himself up, the full length of his body on hers. She wrapped her arms across his shoulders, her legs falling open underneath him. Her eagerness made him feel powerful, and encouraged him. 

He slowly, almost achingly so, slid himself into her. He had never felt such a perfect pleasure as the tight, wet warmth around him. Until she wrapped her legs around his hips, and then she ground herself gently against him. It was almost beyond belief how each moment was so intensely pleasurable. Each moment rippled seamlessly into the next. He drew himself in and out of her slowly, hoping to make her feel as wonderful as he was feeling. 

She ran her hands up and down his back and shoulders. She began to moan and sigh and purr, alternately. Then her body began to tense and he felt her legs lock around him. She arched, almost lifting him off of the bed. He felt her throb and contract around him. She let loose with a final moan. He held her tightly and let himself go.



The Warrior



"You are the one that summoned me?" His voice was deep and powerful. Allorah could only nod in awe. He advanced slowly, his eyes never leaving her. She felt a stirring of something within her, and undefined yearning, a needing. The light danced over the hardened muscles of his chest and arms and the silver spikes of his hair. He knelt on one knee before her. 

"I am the Warrior Varyn. I am here to serve." He said formally, then paused. His tone changed. "What is your name?"

"Allorah," she breathed. His intense green eyes mesmerized her. The yearning inside her had grown, changed into something stronger. She could feel a strange and unfamiliar sensation between her legs. 

"Allorah," he whispered, "Beautiful."

His hand reached out, tracing her cheek, her trembling lips. Her body quivered in excitement as that hand dropped down to casually tweak her rose-colored nipple. Alien passion roared through her small frame, crying out for her to return the touch, but inexperience and nervousness kept her immobile. Varyn paused, watching her expression, then he moved for her. 

Her head swam as he enveloped her mouth in a hungry, insistent kiss. His tongue plunged inward, exploring, claiming, and she tugged and bit at his lower lip in response. Part of her was shocked by her sudden boldness, but it was soon swept away in the tide of desire that was flooding her senses. She had never done anything even close to this before, but right now, she didn't care. In this place of half-dream, it just seemed right. 

Somehow, she was lying on her back and he was kissing his way down her body. Nipping and licking her jaw, ear, neck, collarbone. He was deterred by the twin peaks of her breasts, where he stopped his downward journey to circle them with his tongue, one at a time. His lips enveloped her left nipple. He pulled it into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue and raking it with his teeth, almost to the point of pain. Allorah moaned, her hands tightening on his solid shoulders. Switching to her right breast, he suckled and nibbled, while his hands continued to roam down her body. She shivered as his lips traced her flat belly and those strong hands crept up the insides of her thighs. 

When at last his mouth reached her most private of places, she gasped in surprise and delight. She'd never felt anything so sweet, so agonizingly pleasurable. His tongue ran over her nether-lips then unexpectedly plunged inside her and she cried out at the sensations that were flooding her body. Before long, his tongue moved up slightly to tease her innocent bud, and something much harder and longer found its way to her entrance. She whimpered as he penetrated her with his finger. Nothing had ever been inside her before, and the sudden intrusion was not entirely comfortable. She could feel it bumping up against her maidenhead. But as he began to work it in and out of her she could feel herself lubricating it, and soon the frenzied activity of his tongue had her panting with desire. When he inserted a second finger, she could only moan. 

Suddenly it stopped, and she opened her eyes, not even remembering when she'd closed them, to find Varyn crawling up toward her again. His body forced her legs further apart and she could feel his enormous erection pushing against her untried entrance. The lust apparent in his hardness was echoed in his eyes and in her own heart. 

"Please," she gasped. 

He silenced her scream of pain with his mouth as he forced himself into her with one brutal thrust. She could feel delicate tissue stretch and rip open. It was as if the action released something wild within him and all of a sudden there was a different man on top of her. Any semblance of gentleness was gone; he drove himself into her with merciless savagery, conquering her tight, virginal body violently and cruelly. His monstrous cock plunged in and out of her, stained with her blood, pulling nearly the entire way out before he shoved it back inside, even deeper than before. Her only blessing was the plentiful juices that eased its passage somewhat. Her own juices that she could taste on his lips as he muffled her continuing cries with bruising kisses. 

Allorah thought she might faint with the pain, that it might be a blessing if she did. But then, unbelievably, her body began to respond. The tremendous cock that she would have trouble wrapping her hand around was hitting some place deep within her, sending electric thrills through her whole body. At the same time, he had her stretched so far open that her tiny button rubbed against the base of his tool every time he thrust in. She dimly heard her cries of pain turn to wild pleasure, and she squirmed beneath him, twisting against the rock-hard pole that filled her so completely, shoving her hips up to meet each thrust in an attempt to capture more of him inside her. 

"More," she panted against his lips. She could feel the heat building, the climax nearing. "Oh, please, more!"

He stared into her eyes as he obeyed. He thrust himself into her faster and even more deeply, penetrating her with such force that her whole body was slammed into the ground on every stroke. Shock-waves shook her breasts in time with their coupling, making her hardened nipples brush against his muscular chest, slick with sweat. His breath came harshly and beads of sweat grew on his face. She clung to him tighter, wrapping her legs around him and digging her heals into his backside. Still he shoved into her viciously, relentlessly, deeper and deeper. 

"Oh, yes. Gods, yes, yes..."

He pushed, stabbed, impaled her to her very heart until, at last, she felt her inner walls constrict in a vice like grip around his cock, and her whole body tighten, as she screamed her release to the night. Her pussy rippled in ecstasy, milking and massaging the length of him until she felt him drive himself inside her and hold, while powerful spasms sent thick ropes of his seed to fill her even more completely. He grunted and quivered on top of her. 

When her last shudder of orgasm finally passed, he slowly lowered himself to the ground next to her, but remained skin to skin, still enveloped in her pussy and her embrace. Their hands traced sweet patterns across each other's skin as they stared long at one another, but they did not speak. Talk was for the daylight hours. At last, Allorah felt herself drifting into slumber, safe and sated in the arms of her Warrior-lover from beyond the Gates. 



The Warrior's Heart Ch. 01



Hi,

this is my first submission, no sex in this chapter, just setting the story, hope you like it, constructive criticism welcome,

thanks

*

CHAPTER 1

The crushers were coming. General Leo FreeRoy felt the hot sun on his back, and turned to Jacobs his second in command and nodded. "Prepare to leave, we can't take them here, we're too exposed." He paused, "We'll need to get out of the plains, towards the hills, where we'll have more cover." 

Jacobs left without a word.

Leo sighed and headed towards his tent, the wench he'd had last night had left, thank god. He was the leader of the first army of Acillus, with over 40,000 men at his command. There were 7 armies in total. Though Leo didn't know what had become of the sixth, they had heard of the terrible battle. The crushers were stronger than they had been in years. A strange breed of men. Terrible. Who had come from the North and seemed to fight for the sake of fighting. Their only purpose seemed to be to conquer and destroy. Ransacking whole villages, leaving nothing behind. Killing. Raping. Mutilating.

The armies of the kingdom of Acillus had been fighting them for three years now. To Leo it felt like they had only temporarily stalled them on their crusade for domination.

He walked into his tent and flopped into his desk chair. He was so tired now, so worn of it all. He longed be home, to sit by the river, fishing or reading in the shade. He put his head in his hands and breathed deeply, this could not go on forever he prayed. 

Two Days Later 

Matilda lugged the heavy jug of water to her father's house. She put it down to wipe the sweat from her face with the back of her hand. Picking it back up she leaned it on her hip and continued to struggle up the hill. The small cottage they lived in was on the outskirts of the village. Her mother had died last year of the wasting illness. Carried away in pain and madness. Now her father lay dying. Their fields which had once been green and full of cattle, now lay dusty and barren. 

She reached the door and noticed it was open...There was blood on it. Raiders she thought. She had heard that the crushers were nearer than ever. That there had been stories of them crossing the battle lines in small parties to steal food and supplies. Carefully and slowly she put the jug of water down. She nudged the door open further with her foot. She peered into the darkness. Run a voice screamed in her head, RUN RUN RUN RUN! 

Her father was in there.

She felt paralysed for a moment; a coldly dark fear crept into her belly. Trying not to make a sound, telling herself she was being silly, she slowly stepped in. Then she saw him. Her father lay splayed out on the floor, his throat slit, his stomach open. She fell to her knees, silently to the floor. Her eyes widened and then her head snapped to the side as she heard a voice. 

"Nothing 'ere" a coarse voice called. Another grunted. Her eyes round like saucers swivelled between the sound of the voice and her dead father. Some survival instinct kicked in then. She edged back as quietly as she could, tears streaming down her face. Run the voice said RUN RUN RUN RUN!

She ran.

She pushed herself up and out of the door, but her foot kicked the forgotten water jug, causing a loud crash. She stumbled but didn't fall and kept running. Her father's killers had heard and were after her now. She tumbled down the hill wildly, arms flailing and crying violently. An arrow sailed past her, she heard yelling but did not stop, she weaved slightly to give them a more difficult target, until she figured they'd stopped trying to shoot her. She jumped over a log, trying to lose them as she reached the trees.

She was tackled and felt herself fall on her front. A large heavy weight pinned her down as she thrashed about crying and screaming. A man leaned over her, his rank breath breathing in her ear "What a pretty catch we have 'ere, well you've given us a merry chase lass" She heard him unbuckling his trousers and she managed to free her hand, scratching him. He roared and lifting her head banged it down on the hard earth. Then he rolled her onto her back. Half-conscious now she weakly tried to fight him. He punched her. She could feel him still pulling her around, pulling at her heavy skirts, but she could hardly see through the blood and sweat now and her hands came up to try and push him away. He batted her arms away and pulled at her blouse exposing her breasts. Then she heard a noise and felt him get off her, she heard the clang of metal as she finally lost consciousness. 

Leo had heard the screaming and set off, telling Jacobs to warn the camp and get some men ready and follow. He had taken his horse and found two men brutally attacking a young girl. As he had with swift movement dispatched of the man watching, the other had turned and stumbled towards him. He was in a state of undress and Leo could see he was about to rape the girl. The man grabbed at the old rusty sword by his side and tried to slash at him. Leo's sword deflected this clumsy attempt and then buried in his stomach. As the man fell forwards Leo withdrew his sword. 

Leo reached the girl. She wasn't as young as he first thought. She was probably in her early twenties. She was a mess. Her blonde hair was tangled all around her. Her face, undoubtedly beautiful was covered in blood. Her skirt was hiked up and her blouse torn open. She was still breathing. He heard his men then and hastily he pulled her skirt down and covered her breasts, then lifting her up, he went to his horse. He slung her on and then climbed up. 

His men arrived and surveyed the carnage. "My Lord, you've been busy." Jacob said dryly.

"These two men, they're raiders, the crushers are getting cocky, I found them about to rape this girl. The first one is only unconscious, bring him in for questioning, clear this up, scout for others, I'll take the girl back to camp."

Her rode back with her supported in his arms. When he went to dismount, he held her steady. She whimpered. Her eyes fluttered open and he gazed into deep green eyes. She jerked back from him, scaring the horse. Cursing, he held her tight and then pulled her down.

"Who are you?!" Her voice full of fear came out.

"I found you in the woods with those men." He grunted, wishing that he could sound softer, gentler

"I...thank you" she whispered

He was silent for a second and then nodded; she tried to squirm away but he only tightened his hold "You're safe now, my name is Leo, you're with the first army of Acillus, you'll need medical attention now."

"No, I need to see to my father....oh god..oh no" She looked like she might pass out again. Tears shined in her eyes, dropping in big perfect blobs. Not knowing what else to do he carried her to his tent. He sat down on his bed, cradling her still, sending the maid for the doctor. When he went to get up, her arms instinctively tightened around his neck. "Please... they killed him.. I.... they killed him"

"Tell me what happened"

The story poured out of her as great sobs racked her body "I will send some men, they will bury his body, do you have anyone else?" She shook her head no. 

He wiped away her tears with his thumbs, cradling her face and gazing at her. She was the most beautiful girl. He felt like he'd met her before, though he knew he hadn't. 

The doctor came and advised rest and fluids and an ice pack, no bones were broken. He left her curled up on his bed, almost growling at the doctor when he suggested other accommodation. No place he could think of seemed safe enough. No he would leave her where she was. He scowled at everyone till they left. Knowing he was being completely unreasonable, she wasn't his. Yet he felt so protective, so possessive. He frowned thinking this, then he heard her whimpering and thrashing around in her sleep. 

He gathered her up to himself without thinking, murmuring endearments and reassurances. She quietened, and then whimpered in her sleep again when he went to get up. He settled down behind her, pulling her back into his warm body. He lay holding her for a long time, the day running over in his head, before he let himself relax and fall asleep.

Matilda awoke in the early hours, warm and comfortable. She had never felt so safe. Then she almost stopped breathing when she realised she was pressed against a hard masculine body. She shot up, making herself topple off the small bed, pulling the sheets down with her. The man sat up suddenly alert. His arm going down to shield her as the other brought out a knife in a split second. She gasped and held still. He gazed around the room and once seemingly happy there was no threat he put the knife down and held his hands down to her.

Matilda didn't understand the sudden urge to go to him, to nestle in his arms and feel safe and to feel...

She was in his arms before she knew it, not sure if it was him or her. He was murmuring in her ear, his hot breath causing shivers down her spine. "You're okay, sshh, it's okay, don't worry, I've got you, you're safe." She felt herself relax into him, then he kissed her. She shot off the bed again, her eyes frantic. 

Leo didn't know what had come over him. What was he thinking? "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that, calm, ssh, I won't hurt you, I'm sorry little one, I'm sorry" She was still wary of him, tense and gazing at his hard naked chest. 

"I want to go home" She said

"Do you remember what happened Matilda?" 

She nodded, tears streaming down her face. "I need to go home, to see my father, to see that he is buried properly."

He thought quickly "We will pass the house tomorrow, my men will already have buried him, you can see the grave then."

She seemed to lose all strength then, she nodded and he gathered her into his arms, he kissed her hot tears away and she didn't seem to notice this time. 

She awoke in the early morning, the bed was empty, but she could hear Leo outside shouting orders. He sounded frustrated.

She contemplated the man. He was tall and broad, obviously strong. His body bronzed from the sun, his hair was a dark brown, curling slightly at his neck. He had deep brown eyes and a scar that slashed across his face, barely missing his right eye. She guessed his age at around thirty. He had a kind of savage beauty, yet he could be kind. She felt like she could trust him. She didn't want to think how she felt about him. She had just lost everything she'd ever known, and he'd rescued her, of course she was going to react strongly to him, it was nothing more. She felt a deep bleakness settle on her, her father was dead. She had lost everything. What was she going to do? She wiped angrily at the tears falling down her cheeks. She would survive. She would grow strong and she would have vengeance. 

Later that day she knelt by her father's grave, she touched the soil and then touched her forehead. "I will not forget father."



The Warrior's Heart Ch. 02



Hey everyone,

This is chapter 2, the rest of the story is basically finished, I know how it ends, it just needs a bit of work, there should be 5 chapters total, maybe 6, depending on how long the end is, they'll be coming out every day/every other day now, so don't worry, it will be finished!

Thank you for all comments and votes on the last chapter, it really made my day!

Cheers x

*

Two days after Matilda arrived at the camp, the crushers arrived and with them all semblance of peace vanished. Leo left to go to the front of the battle. Matilda waited nervously. She could see the smoke in the distance and hear the cry of the injured brought back to camp. The camp had a desperate busyness about it. Matilda had felt useless until the injured had started to arrive. Then she was frantically busy, running to and fro, doing what she could to help the surgeons.

Please be safe Leo, please be safe was like a running mantra through her head. She hardly knew him, yet it continued throughout the night and the next day as she nursed dying men feeling cold and empty. I didn't think I could feel any worse, any more desperate she thought.

News that the battle was over, that they had won, arrived on the third day, they had driven the crushers off, at least for a time. They'd be back though, they always came back Matilda thought.

The doctor finally insisted that she go rest, she stood numbly in Leo's tent, she shouldn't be here she thought. He won't want me here. She hadn't had a chance to seek new accommodation; she had been awake helping without rest for almost three days now. 

"Please be safe Leo" she whispered.

She sensed him then and she turned to see him staring at her at the entrance to the tent. He strode across the room and seized her in a bear hug "thank god you're safe." He lowered his head to her neck and breathed in. "You smell terrible" He laughed.

She half choked, half laughed, feeling suddenly shy, "I've been trying to help"

He held her away from him and looked at her "When was the last time you slept? The last time you ate?" He cursed at her blank look and then pulled her to the bed and laid her down. He pushed his head out of the tent and barked some orders at someone.

They lay on their sides staring at each other, his hand absently stroking her hip.

"Are you okay Leo?" 

He smiled grimly "Yes, I'm just tired of all this shit. I feel like I've spent my life fighting. Like all the goodness has been leeched out of me, out of the world, and all that's left is blood and death. I thought everything good and pure had gone until I met you. Tell me something good Mattie." He used the shortened form of her name without even thinking.

She nodded "There's still goodness in you Leo, I can see it, and there's so many wonderful things in the world, so many good things, you're helping to protect it." She stroked his brow and told him stories of her childhood that made him laugh. She told him about getting stuck up a tree trying to save a cat, she told him about laughing so hard she'd fallen over, about summer days by the river.

When the food and bath arrived she let him sleep, hesitating she leant over and kissed his forehead. She slipped into the hot water, washing off all the grime felt heavenly. She put on the simple cotton dress they left her and then lay next to Leo and slept. 

The next day she watched the men training. They held their swords practising the movements, as Leo paced around them, watching them, occasionally commenting or correcting mistakes. He seemed so cold now, distant and grim, his face an unbreakable mask. She continued to watch the men, she needed to learn to fight she thought, and then she could help Leo, help finally rid the world of the hated crushers. She'd be able to protect herself against men like those who had attacked her and killed her father. She wanted to feel strong again.

She thought about Leo, he had been so good to her, so kind. She couldn't grow close to him. She hated the idea of him growing tired of her and wishing she was gone. It would break her heart, but it would only get harder the longer she left it, she had to leave him. She couldn't afford to fall in love with him. She couldn't lose another person she loved.

That night she tried to talk to him in the tent. "Leo, I wanted to thank you for all you've done for me, you saved my life, saved me from those men. I owe you so much and I will always be grateful to you. I was thinking that you'd probably want your tent back; I shall move to sleep in the servant's quarters. I've spoken to....."

Leo was scowling at her "You won't sleep in the servants quarters. You will stay with me. If you're worried about..... I can keep my damn hands to myself."

"Yes Leo" She said in a small uncertain voice. She didn't know what to say. Uncomfortable she tried to change the subject. 

"Leo, I was thinking I should learn to fight to be able to protect myself and to help"

Still angry that she wanted to leave him he frowned "No! Women do not fight, I can protect you!"

"But.. Leo!"

"I said no Mattie!" He strode angrily out of the tent.

Leo could barely look at her when he came back late to the tent. She was curled up like a small hurt kitten on the edge of the bed. He should let her go. Yet he couldn't bear the thought of her out there. Unprotected. Matilda was so beautiful, what if someone hurt her. He remembered when he'd found her, covered in blood, about to be raped. Lying down next to her he waited till he was sure she was asleep and then he carefully gathered her up against him, holding her close. 

The next day Matilda was furious. How dare he behave in such an autocratic manner! Like she was one of his soldiers he could just order about. Then storming off like a spoilt child, refusing to speak about it. She wanted to learn to fight. There was no reason a woman couldn't do it. Damn him, she was going to learn, with or without his help.

It was late when Leo happened to spot Matilda slipping away from the camp. A cold knot of dread formed in his stomach. What the hell did she think she was doing? Had he pushed her too far yesterday? He followed her at a discrete distance. He could tell she was nervous, doing something she shouldn't, the knot grew. He watched from atop a small hill as she set herself up in a clearing. 

She held a large stick and was obviously trying to practice the fighting form he taught his men for one on one combat. He stood staring, as she gave it her all, a slight sheen of sweat visible on her brow. She wasn't as bad as he would have thought for a female novice. 

Then he saw the two men in the bushes below approaching her. She swung round alerted to their presence. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he could see her tense posture as the two men began to move to circle her. He hurried down the hill as quietly as he could. 

"Keep away from me" Matilda said "I said keep away."

The bigger of the two grinned "We just want to know you a little better, like the commander did."

Matilda felt her face burn with fury and embarrassment "I am not a whore" she said calmly through gritted teeth "I am sure this has all been a misunderstanding, go now and it will all be forgotten."

"What if we don't want to go?" The other one piped in.

At that moment there was the sound of a man clearing his throat from behind them. They both span around. Matilda didn't waste time looking at the third party and promptly swung her stick as hard as she could into the head of the larger man, who crumpled down unconscious with a slight cry. 

The other man span back around "You can't do that."

"I just did." She held the stick firmly.

Leo blinked, he was more than a little surprised, and despite himself he held back a grin. The little minx. "What is the meaning of this?" He said coldly to the remaining man.

The other man backed away "Jem and I were just seeing as if she needed 'elp and she attacked us!" he whined. 

"Help?" Matilda scoffed "Like hell you did! You were implying you were going to rape me!"

Leo's fists tightened "John, isn't it?" he said softly.

The other man looked even more worried "Yes sir."

"Go back to camp, take this man with you, I will deal with you when I get back. If you attempt to run, I will find you, and it will be worse for you." The man's eyes widened, and then pulling the other man up over his shoulder he hurried away.

Matilda stared at Leo, he looked magnificent. He looked furious.

"What are you doing out here?" His voice was low and dangerous.

"I'm....." What could she say "I was just...."

The silence lengthened.

"I was practising. Trying to learn how to fight."

"I see. Why? I told you it was not necessary." He stepped closer to her, pushing the stick out of her hands so it fell with a thump to the floor.

She tilted her chin up at him "It bloody well is necessary to me! I need to be able to defend myself, and maybe one day I will be able to help kill the crushers."

It sounded ridiculous now she said it out loud. His hand snaked out, holding her chin prisoner so she could not look away from his golden brown eyes. 

"You stubborn little fool" he whispered.

She flinched but his thumb was stroking her cheek ever so softly now and he was lowering her to the soft moss floor, swinging his cloak behind her. He was kissing her, desperate kisses, getting harder and more demanding.

"Leo" Matilda moaned. She felt like she was burning, like a wonderful heat had started to thunder through her body. His hands felt like they were everywhere, on her breasts, pulling her shirt apart and tearing at the buttons on the tight breaches she had donned. He was kissing her neck now, she moaned again.

"You are mine Matilda? Do you understand? Mine." He muttered in-between kisses.

It was like a rush of cold water, she started pushing at him "No!" for a moment she didn't think he heard her, didn't think he'd stop. Then she felt him go still above her. His face buried in her neck. He was breathing heavily. A shaky breath and then he rolled off her, staring into the night sky. Matilda almost rolled with him, to feel his hot kisses again.

"I am not yours, I am not a possession." She stumbled to her feet as he stared dumbly at her, still trying to work out what had happened. She started to hurry back, tears streaming down her face, she felt hot and confused. She couldn't do this. She couldn't get close to someone. She couldn't lose another person. Of all the stupid people to fall in love with! Why had she chosen a soldier! Someone who faced danger every day.

He caught up with her, swinging her round to face him. 

"Matilda....." He stopped, staring at her tear stained face. 

"Gods, I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me... it won't happen again Mattie."

She shook her head, still confused.

"It is not safe to come out here alone Mattie."

"What else can I do?" She asked softly, struggling not to throw herself at him.

"I will come out with you and teach you then." He said the words before he fully thought them through. 

Matilda stared at him.

"You cannot come out here alone, it is either me or nothing."

"Okay then." Matilda sighed.

"Good." He pulled her along beside him as they made their way back to camp.

***

She was a quick Learner, Leo thought. What she lacked in strength, she made up for in speed. He had been teaching her to fight every day for two weeks. They had by unspoken agreement not mentioned that night again. They lived with an uneasy camaraderie. They would be laughing and joking and then she'd catch him staring or they'd get too close and they'd both tense up. There had been no more kisses. His time with her at night was the best time. The best and the worst. It was torture. He couldn't seem to let her go though. He would never take her by force, but he longed for her, lusted after, if only she would come to him willingly.

He tried to look indifferent as he saw her face, as she swung the large stick seemingly effortlessly through her hands. "Enough" He barked, thinking she looked tired. 

He sat on the bank and she came and sat next to him. 

Grinning she said "I am getting better though, aren't I Leo?"

"Better" he said "Not good enough yet though Mattie"

She looked philosophical about this statement and nodded "true."

"Leo, why do you continue to help me so? I thought you would have grown tired of it by now."

He said nothing and she saw a muscle ticking in his jaw, she longed to lean over and lick it. She blinked, surprised by herself. 

"It doesn't matter Mattie."

"Does it not?" she whispered "Leo... I......" 

They stared at each other. She wasn't sure how it happened. Suddenly they were kissing, their hands pulling each other closer. His desperate kisses raining down on her face and neck. "Mattie, Mattie" he murmured. 

She was kissing him back. Lost in the moment. She realised that her blouse was open, as his hands stroked and softly needed her breasts, stroking down her stomach. She wanted more of him. Wanted something she couldn't describe. She loved the feel of him, his hard muscles beneath her hands, the pressure and weight of him. She was on her back, her arms wrapped around him, his hot kisses on her face. She felt his tongue as they kissed, how could anything feel so wonderful she thought. She ripped at his shirt desperately, feeling his bare chest. She wriggled out of her breeches, his fingers curled around her sex, strumming softly against her clit and then pushing gently into her dampness. She gasped and shivered at the sensation, feeling it move through her. She strained urgently against him, her hands running up and down his back. He murmured endearments and reassurances in a hot breath against her ear. Telling her how beautiful she was, how much he wanted her. His mouth found her breasts, drawing a desperate cry from her. She felt him smile against her skin as her breath came out in small pants as he began to lick them gently. He came up to kiss her again, his hands running down her body. Then he was positioning himself at her entrance. He looked at her and she nodded. He pushed in with one thrust. She stilled at the searing hot pain. He kissed her, dropping soft kisses on her face and neck, his hands gently stroking her, calming her. Yes she thought dazedly, no arguing about it, she was his now. The pain eased and he began to gently move. She arched up to meet him, her fingers clutching at his back as he thrust into her. He continued to kiss her as he slowly moved in and out of her. She felt a desperate kind of heat snaking through her entire body, and then she felt herself come apart.

Leo felt her coming, and he felt himself go over the edge as he came with her. Then he lay on her for a minute panting, he stroked her cheek tenderly, gods she was beautiful. He rolled over onto his back, pulling her with him and settling her into the crook of his arm. "You were a virgin."

She nodded slightly against his shoulder.

He felt immensely satisfied with himself. Then he panicked. He needed to keep her safe. He had taken her innocence; possibly got her with child, what would happen to her if he died in this god forsaken war. They should marry he thought. Then he could give her the protection of his name, if something happened to him, she would be looked after. Yes, that was the answer.

"We will marry in the morning" he said.

She struggled away from him; he was doing it again, ordering her around, he thought just because she was a virgin that he should marry her. He didn't love her. She felt suddenly desperate.

"No! You can't just assume I'll do exactly as you want. I'm not yours Leo. I'm not!"

She scrambled away from him and ran back towards the camp.

Leo lay on his back, her words echoing in his head.

I am not yours Leo.

He was hers though, as surely as the sun would rise tomorrow, he loved her.



The Warrior's Heart Ch. 03



Matilda sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, she was hiding. He had asked her to marry him. She would have said yes, despite her fear of losing him, but he did not love her. He had only asked because she had been a virgin and he thought that principle demanded it of him. She frowned, he hadn't even asked though, just announced it. It was like she didn't have a say in the matter. It would be awful to be tied to a man loving him so desperately, knowing he was only bound to her due to his sense of honour. He would grow to resent her. He would never respect her. He would always order her about. Never treat her as an equal. It would kill her she thought. So why did she feel like she had just lost something wonderful.

He found her a few hours later, squatting down in front of her, his hands gentle. "Come back with me Mattie, I won't force you to do anything you don't want, but we should talk about this sometime, maybe not now, but... soon." He said.

She came with him silently; he held her hand guiding her through the silent camp. They fell into bed, not talking but they found themselves holding onto each other. Neither let go.

Leo felt a desperate need for her. As she fell into exhausted sleep, he held her to him and covered the top of her head in silent kisses. He loved her. Dear gods he loved her. He realized with wonder that he had been in love with her from the start. From the moment he'd seen her. He'd felt rage at the men that had hurt her. A fierce protectiveness had overcome him which had only grown stronger with each passing minute. She was everything he thought he had lost. Everything he never had. She was beautiful and kind and gentle. She made him laugh. He loved that surprising ferocity when there was something she cared about. He loved how brave she was. He loved her goodness, her purity despite everything that had happened to her. He just loved her.

He thought of the war. This awful war which had destroyed so much. Destroyed everything Matilda had ever known. He had to stop it. There was only one way, but he would likely die in the attempt. He had thought it a small price to pay. He looked at her, his eyes softening. She would be alone again. He realized with a jolt that he would do anything for her. Even if she did not love him. Betray everything he had ever believed in, if it would keep her safe. He kissed her gently and lay savouring the feel of her in his arms.

***

The next day, Leo regarded his old friend and second in command -Jacobs. They sat in the command tent. 

Jacobs leant down and signed the document. To show that it had been witnessed. "Are you sure about this Leo?" Jacobs asked. 

Leo looked down at his last will and testament that he had changed to make sure that Matilda would be provided for. "Never surer." he grinned, and then he looked seriously at his trusted friend "Promise me Jacobs, if something does happen to me, make sure she is safe."

His long-time friend regarded him for a long moment "Aye." he said "If you are stupid enough to get yourself killed, I give you my word, I'll make sure she's alright."

Leo flashed another grin, he felt bleak though as he remembered her words --I am not yours Leo. She felt like his though, felt like his to love and protect. Ah well, he could think of that later, back to business now.

He walked with Jacobs to the prisoner's camp. They had done this every day for two weeks. He hated it. Yet this prisoner knew where the Stone of Vrai was. The stone that could end this war once and for all he thought. "Right then." he said "Lets get this over with old friend."

They walked into the dark room. It smelt of sick and blood. Dear god he thought regarding the prisoner on the floor, he's got to break soon, please god let him break soon. He suppressed the grimace and watched the man seemingly dispassionately. Without the armour, the prisoner didn't look at all human. His skin grey, his features large and grotesque, his teeth sharp. 

"Tell me crusher. Tell me what I need to know." He said in a cold voice.

The prisoner blinked up at him with his one remaining eye "Go to hell." he muttered.

"We can do this forever; I won't let you die till I know. Where is the stone?"

The prisoner looked up at him balefully and tried to rise "When I am free, I will eat your heart, but not before I will find all those you love and tear their - "

"Enough!" Jacobs kicked the man in the gut.

Leo smiled grimly "We've seen your propensity for cannibalism you piece of filth and we're not interested in your vitriol. What we want to know is where the stone is. Listen to me now, the next thing we're removing is going to be your dick, and then you can watch as we feed it to the dogs."

The prisoner paled but gritted his teeth. 

"So be it." Leo turned to leave.

Finally the prisoner broke and told them.

***

That night Leo watched Matilda practice; she was clumsy today, distracted and preoccupied. He swooped in on her, easily removing the wooden stick.

"How do you expect to defend yourself if you can't even keep hold of your weapon?" He asked.

She was silent, staring at him. "Well?" he asked.

"I shall use my hands, my feet, and my teeth." she was glaring at him, angry for the rebuke.

He laughed "I never knew you were such a bloodthirsty little thing." He paused watching her "I'm serious Mattie; you need to remember that you are only a novice, a crusher would kill you in two seconds flat. You need to promise me not to do anything stupid. No heroics. If I'm not here to protect you, you go to Jacobs."

She looked at him sharply, her face full of concern "Why wouldn't you be here?"

"I'm leaving tomorrow."

She felt her heart drop into her stomach. "Leo..."

"I have to." He went to her then and pulled her in his arms "Mattie, there's so much I have to tell you. I don't want you never to know."

"You're scaring me Leo."

"I know, I'm sorry. Let's go back, there's much we need to talk about." He said.

They walked silently to the tent, both pensive and anxious. 

When they entered the tent, Matilda turned to him "Tell me Leo, please just tell me."

His gut tightened at the sound of the quiet pain in her voice.

He sat on the bed and she joined him. "This war has been going on for three years Matilda. Tell me, had you ever heard of the crushers before then?"

She shook her head. "No, it was like they came from nowhere, I remember when the attacks started, it was so frightening."

He nodded. "The king has sent scouts out everywhere to find out more about them, where they came from, what they wanted. Many never came back. Slowly though we came to realise the truth. The crushers are not really human Mattie, they're demons. A portal was opened, by a foolish man. A man wishing for power. That portal was like a gateway, it allowed thousands upon thousands of demons to enter this world. It's still open to this day. We can't defeat them without closing the portal, their numbers will be endless. All they want is destruction and death. There will never be an end until that portal is closed."

Matilda stared at him wide eyed "That's what you're going to do isn't it, try to close the portal."

He nodded "There's a stone with the power to close it, the Stone of Vrai, we've had a prisoner, we've been questioning him, he finally told us today where to find the stone. The stone was formed when the portal opened; it's the only way to close it."

"Why does it have to be you? Surely they need you!" she asked desperately.

"Mattie, the King needed someone he could trust, they'll likely only be one chance, it's the most important thing."

Tears were streaming down her face "You don't think you're coming back do you?"

He gave a half helpless shrug "I may not Mattie, you need to be prepared for that." He paused and then carried on, for the first time his façade of calm breaking "Mattie I need you to know, Jacobs knows to take care of you, you can trust him, and if something does happen you must, I have provided for you in my will, there is land and money..." 

She was shaking her head desperately "No Leo! You mustn't say that, please, please don't go..."

"Mattie, I must go, I will try and come back to you love. I know you don't feel the same way, but it doesn't matter, I love you, I will always love you." The words were out before he could stop them.

Matilda stared at him; her eyes seemed so unbelievably large. He froze not knowing what to say.

"You...you love me? Leo, I love you, I love you so much, I've been so frightened, but I can't help it, I love you."

They stared into each other's eyes. "Oh god Leo." She whispered, as their lips met in a sweet feather light kiss. Then their kisses deepened becoming more desperate. Their tongues caressed, sending a shock of sensation through her. 

Their hands moved on each other, stroking and pulling each other closer. She twisted, frustrated at all their clothes.

She pulled back from him and stood, and quickly shuffled out of her breeches, and slowly began to remove her blouse as he watched. Her body was slim but curved, her skin a golden glow in the candle light.

"Oh gods." he groaned, staring at her.

She beamed, her green eyes dancing, feeling suddenly very brave, she put her hands on his chest and gave him a gentle push onto his back on the bed. He laughed softly, falling back, not resisting.

He lay back and Matilda climbed up on top of him, with shaky hands she started to remove his shirt. He lay still, letting her take charge, she lightly kissed his lips and then kissed the scar on his face, trailing kisses lightly down it, kissing down his body, finding every scar and mark and kissing it tenderly, tracing her hands down his body. He groaned and his whole body seemed to tense. She suddenly realised her power over him and kissed him gently.

This big strong hard man who loved her. Who would do anything for her she realised. Who even in leaving her was trying to protect her. She loved him so much, she felt it like a physical pain, like her heart was breaking.

"I love you Leo." she whispered "Whatever happens, come back to me, please come back to me." 

She kissed down his body, feeling the hardness of him, and impatiently pulled at his trousers. Then his member was free, she took him into her mouth. He gasped, his body straining up. His hands tightened around the sheets on the bed. She swirled her tongue around him experimentally. He groaned, as her tongue flickered over the head of his penis. She began to suckle him, listening to his responses as she went up and down. When he began to beg her, she had mercy on him. 

She rose above him and he helped guide himself into her. 

He tried to touch her, but she shook her head and pushed his hands back to the mattress. She shifted experimentally and made a small mewling sound as she felt a jolt of pleasure. 

"Mattie!" he said desperately.

She began to rock back and forwards instinctively, her hands tracing down his chest, to come up and run through his hair. She cupped his face and leant forward to lovingly kiss him.

With that he groaned and lost control. His hands came up to clutch at her, pressing her into him, and he rolled so that she was suddenly beneath him. 

They both moaned, as holding her close, he thrust into her hard, kissing down her neck. 

He felt her breasts with his hands, feeling the hard peaked nipples, rubbing at them and circling them, making her gasp.

She felt so full as he continued to push into her, rubbing against her clit. 

With each slow steady thrust, she felt the heat in her rise, it rushed through her body, as she felt her body tremble, she peaked.

As they came together, she collapsed on top of him. She felt him tenderly stroking her hair. They made love many more times throughout the night, until they both fell into an exhausted sleep.

Matilda awoke in the morning to find the sun streaming in, Leo was gone.



The Warrior's Heart Ch. 04



They lay together on a soft bed in a candle lit room. Leo watched Matilda. She lay naked, stretched out on her side, facing away from him. He reached out and stroked down her leg. She shivered slightly. He continued to stroke her body, tracing patterns into her skin. He pressed himself against her, letting her feel how much he needed her. His hand dipped down to her front, feeling her breasts and then as he started to softly kiss her neck, his hands travelled down further to her sex. She pushed herself into his hand as she moaned. He pushed himself into her. She hooked her top leg around him and together they moved, he could feel waves of pleasure as he...

Leo woke with a start.

Groaning, he collapsed back on his small canvas bed roll and gazed up at the stars. He had dreamt about her every night for the last six nights he'd been travelling. He longed for her. He missed her. He probably would never see her again he thought. It would be enough to know that she was safe. He had provided for her, the crushers would be gone and Jacobs would make sure she was safe. 

He travelled alone to avoid detection to the eastern border of the Woods of Valha. To where they were told the Stone of Vrai was. He would reach it by tomorrow.

The stone of Vrai would close the portal between worlds. With the portal closed and the demons known as the crushers gone, this blasted War would finally be over. 

He thought of the prisoner who they had tortured to find out where it was. He was a crusher, he had once been one of the head guards to watch the stone. 

Leo had been told by his King to find one of those who knew where the stone was and do whatever he had to do to find the stone. Leo felt like he'd lost a little bit of his soul making the prisoner tell them. It wasn't over though, he still had to get the stone and with it close the portal.

The prisoner had told them that the crushers had tried to destroy the stone but had not succeeded. The stone exerted a strange kind of power. If you were with it too long, you'd slowly go insane with blood pouring from your nose and ears. The crushers were afraid of it.

So the crushers had locked it under a heavy guard on the eastern border of the Woods of Valha, a place they already conquered. They kept it in a locked iron casket and with a new guard every few days. 

There Leo now travelled in secret to steal the stone. 

***

The next day Leo had finally made it to his destination; he surveyed the grim looking castle where the stone was kept, with its thick stone walls. Everything about it seemed impenetrable. He went about making his preparations and then settled down to wait till darkness.

At midnight, he stood in the shadows, watching the castle wall. He watched the guards circling the roof and then head inside. He waited for the exact right moment to sprint to the castle wall, then using multiple small blades that he stabbed into the wall to use as handgrips, he began to climb. He slowly and silently edged his way up. At the top, he secured a rope and hid it from view, he would use it as his escape later. Then he soundlessly made his way through the castle, avoiding the guards, until he found the right door. There were two guards in front of it. He shot them both in quick succession with the cross bow before they could cry out. Then he went to the door, knelt and examined the lock. Two minutes later he was in the room; he was running out of time, it wouldn't be long before more guards arrived in their nightly sweep. There was a safe in the middle of the room. There was a red light leaking from it, suddenly it flashed and the door to the safe clicked open. Leo paused. What the fuck was that? There wasn't time to have second thoughts now. He grabbed the stone and secured it safely to his person and then he ran back for the roof.

Just as he reached it, he heard a loud shout, his time was up, he ran and jumped off the roof, he felt the air rush up beneath him, as his gloved hands grabbed for the rope he'd left there. He slowed himself and scaled down the building at a forward run. As he reached the ground, he let go off the rope and ran towards the woods. 

He heard them behind him as he sprinted through the trees. Arrows flashed past him. The crushers were chasing him. He leaned forwards, not daring to look back even at the inhuman howls and grunts they were making. He finally reached the river, which swirled further away from them; rushing away in a torrent. He jumped into the small boat that he had left there, pushing it away from the bank. He looked back as the boat carried him away from them. The crushers stood twisting and howling. 

At the first dawn of light, when he had been on the river for several hours, he guided himself towards the bank. He used his knife to stab several small holes into the bottom of the boat. He got out and pushed the boat back out into the swirling river. It would sink, but not directly where he had landed. Then making sure to cover his landing and his tracks, shouldering his pack he made his way back into the forest. 

He had been running for several hours when he felt the ground give way beneath him, he landed with a thud at the bottom of a large dark hole. His head hit the ground and he lay unconscious and twisted. For a second all was dark and then the cave was filled with a red pulsating light emanating from the stone.

***

A long way away, Matilda suddenly sat up straight in bed. For a second all she could see was a pulsating red ruby light. Then her vision cleared and she stared at the tent around her bathed in the morning light. She knew that Leo was in trouble. She felt it right down to her bones. She had to go to him. She went to find Jacobs.

"Matilda, I know you care for him, and he cares for you too, and of course you're going to worry, maybe even have bad dreams, but that's no reason for you to go haring off to find him, you don't even know where he is! You can't help him!" Jacobs was looking at her like she was crazy. This was not going well.

"Jacobs please! He needs us!" She pleaded.

He looked at her "Like I said Matilda,I'm sorry, I get it, I worry about him too, but I can't just send men off based on your sudden feelings, and not even know where they're going. Leo knows what he's doing, if anyone can do this, he can."

"I can find him Jacobs." 

"No Matilda, this is madness."

Nothing she could say would persuade him, she could see that now. He did not believe her. She nodded as if agreeing with him. "Yes Jacobs, I see now."

When she left him, she immediately went about gathering her supplies, and then she found the small horse that Leo had left for her use and made her way out of the camp. For a moment she stood undecided. She told Jacobs she would know where to find Leo, was that true? She closed her eyes for a moment, seeing the strange ruby pulsating glow. Then she knew, she guided her horse and set off.

She didn't reach him for two days. Every time she hesitated she would see the strange ruby glow and she would know which way to go. Then finally she stumbled off her horse, and knew that she had found him, she could sense him nearby.

"Leo!" she called.

She heard a loud groan and found him at the bottom of a large hole. There was at least 20 foot sheer drop. No hand or foot holds at all. He stood at the bottom, looking dirty and angry, with blood on the side of his face. He had clearly not been awake long.

"Leo" she called, delighted to see him.

"Matilda? What the bloody hell do you think you're doing here?"

"I came to save you! I knew you were in trouble, I just knew it. I told Jacobs that"

"Jacobs let you come here!" he interrupted "where is he? I'll bloody kill him."

"He's not here, he didn't exactly know I was coming, he wouldn't listen to me, I came alone."

He stared up at her "Matilda what were you thinking! You could have been killed! We're in crusher territory! I'm going to bloody kill you! Of all the stupid things"

"Will you stop shouting at me? I'm going to let you up, I've got some rope."

She got the rope and secured it to a tree trunk and then tossed it into the hole.

He began to climb up it.

"I told you no heroics" he said through gritted teeth.

"Leo, I knew you were in trouble, I don't know how, but I knew okay, I had to try and help you. There's no way you would have left me if you knew I was in trouble, so how could you expect me to leave you."

"It's not the same!"

"Yes it is! It's exactly the same, or do you think I love you less!"

He clambered out then and stood up staring at her. "No, I think you're worth so much more than me." He walked towards her and pushed her back against the tree kissing her frantically.

"Leo"

"No more talking" he muttered, as he pulled up her long skirts and lowered his trousers. He fumbled with her underclothes, feeling the brush of her slim leg. He was desperate for her, needed her in a way he couldn't even fathom, looking into her green eyes he saw she felt the same. He pulled her leg up around him and pressed her back into the tree. Without waiting he pushed himself into her; she was already ready and wet for him. He held her hands above her head with one of his, although she was certainly not struggling against him. He felt the press of her body. Her scent was pure and sweet. He kissed her mouth frantically, desperate to feel her again. He felt her tongue slide across his bottom lip and he groaned.

He ripped at her blouse. Lowering his mouth to kiss down her neck and then reaching her breasts and lightly he sucked on them, grinning slightly as her nipples hardened even more. He looked into her eyes then as he continued to thrust into her. Feeling all the depth of his emotion for her. He saw that her face was flushed, as she moved against him, her breath coming out in short gasps. She felt tight, hot and wet, he groaned as he thrust into her. Her skin was like silk beneath his exploring hands. So soft and smooth he thought.

He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the clean scent of her, loving the sound of the small moans and gasps as she came apart in his arms. His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. He continued to pump in and out of her, a low growl coming out of his throat. He fucked her hard and desperately, holding onto her hips. He felt her soft urgent kisses as she kissed his bare chest, felt her hands clutching at his back, she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

"Please Leo" she murmured "more please!"

"I like it when you beg." He grinned, pushing himself even harder into her.

In the end though, he was begging as well.

Afterwards, they slumped to the floor together, holding onto each other, still kissing and touching everywhere, desperate to get more of each other. "I love you" she said "I love love love love you"

He smiled against her lips "I love you too Mattie, gods I love you!" Then he sat up and looked at her sternly, "I'm also bloody furious with you! What were you thinking? I'd have found a way out of that hole. Hell! You could have died! I'm going to have to get you back to safety."

"Leo, please don't send me away! I can help!"

"I have to!"

Suddenly Matilda cried out in pain, clutching at her head, all she could see was ruby red, as her head burned in agony. 

"Mattie! Mattie! What's wrong?"

He held her up as she writhed in agony and then suddenly she was calm, sitting straight up. She turned to face him, her normally green eyes glowing ruby red.

"Mattie...."

"Do not send the girl away." Matilda's voice said in an unnatural monotone.

Leo stared at her in horror for a moment, there was a long silence. "You're not Mattie. You're the stone aren't you? You're in her head, you're using her." He said in a cold voice.

"Yes"

"Get the fuck out of her now!" Leo shouted.

"She will be fine. As long as you do your duty. I brought her here to help you. I could only connect with one that loved you truly. Like a magnet. Together you will be stronger. You must close the portal." Matilda's calm voice said in that unnatural tone.

"I don't care, just get out of her head"

"If you attempt to send her away, I will kill her. She must go with you."

Leo stared at the red glowing eyes "Please, get out of her, I'll do what you want, just don't harm her."

With that Matilda fainted in his arms, blood spilling from her nose. He stared down into her pale face, they would do this together then, the stone held them hostage.



The Warrior's Heart Ch. 05



Hey,

this is the final chapter, hope you enjoy it,x

*

Matilda awoke groggy and disorientated. Leo sat with his back against the tree cradling her lightly. It must have been some hours since she fainted, what had happened? The afternoon light streamed through the trees basking them in a warm glow. Leo was rocking her slightly. Murmuring endearments in her ear, asking her to be okay, to please be okay.

"Leo" she croaked. 

"Mattie!" he leant forwards, drowning her with kisses, "Mattie, are you alright?" 

She nodded, trying to pull herself up, "I'm fine, what happened?"

He pushed her back down onto his knee, shushing her and stroking her cheek "What do you remember?" 

"We were talking, you wanted to take me back and then I had this awful headache, oh god Leo I felt like I was burning, and then everything went black....no...not black...red...everything went red. Then I woke up. How long has it been?" 

He looked at her for a long moment "It has been hours. Mattie, do you remember I told you about the stone. I have it."

She smiled faintly puzzled "That's wonderful..."

"Yes, yes I thought so. The stone is more aware than I realised Mattie." He continued to stroke her face.

"What do you mean "aware"?" She asked, still confused as to what he was telling her.

"It has a consciousness. It brought you to me. To help me. It wants to close the portal. It used you to tell me this. It spoke through you. It wants you to come with me to close the portal. It hasn't given us much choice."

She stared at him. "Then it seems the stone and I want the same thing." She said.

***

They travelled that day, Leo guiding her horse, as he made her sit upon it, insisting she rest as much as possible. She didn't argue, because she still felt drowsy and disorientated although she wouldn't admit it. 

"Leo, where is this portal anyway?" she asked.

"It's a long way away. Maybe two weeks journey. We are already in crusher territory. They took the stone away from the portal. It's in the Northern provinces of Calla, where the crushers first appeared. Before they swept down here."

She remembered Calla had once been a thriving country, a peaceful neighbour of Acillus for centuries. Then suddenly the crushers had appeared and destroyed it. Acillus and the other neighbouring countries had been fighting them since then. One by one their neighbours had fallen. Now Acillus stood alone against the crushers. They had been protected by their seven powerful armies. 

"Leo, who was the man that opened the portal?"

"An idiot. It doesn't matter, he's dead. Killed by his own avarice. He opened the portal, to gain control of an army, for power and wealth. He had no control over the crushers though, they...consumed him."

Leo suddenly stilled and motioned for her to be silent. He picked her up off the horse, and silently removed their packs, slinging them over his shoulder. He unhooked the reins, there was no saddle. She heard it then, the horrible cry of a crusher. Then a grunting snuffle. He slapped the horse on the rump to get it moving away from them, so that it would not attract attention to them. Taking out his crossbow, he pulled her into the shadows of an oak. 

They watched as the hulking crusher crashed after the horse. Then two more followed it. One of them keening highly like a child. How had she ever thought they were human she thought. Leo waited till they were gone and then pulled Matilda after him, making them run. After an hour or so they stopped. 

"I can't....I can't...I'm sorry...I have to stop.. give me a moment" Matilda panted.

He put his finger to his lips, and waited patiently by her for a moment, stroking down her back, then he pulled the packs so they were sitting on his front, handing her the flask of water. She took a long gulp. He sprinkled some onto his hands, wiping them over her hot face. Then he took a sip himself. Stashing the flask, he suddenly hoisted her onto his back. She gasped. He continued to run. When she was ready she got down to relieve him of her weight and they continued on. 

That night he found them a resting place. 

"Why haven't we seen more crushers?" She asked. 

"We're in dead country." He replied. Seeing her blank face, he went on. "The crushers have been here. There's nothing left. They've razed every village, burnt their crops, killed everything they can find. They've killed the land. There's nothing left for them to kill here. So they've all but deserted it. Most of them can be found either directly fighting our country -Acillus or on one of their direct routes from the portal to Acillus. They don't stay around because they don't really want the land. They just want to kill. They're done here. What we saw was a small scouting party, here to pick off remains"

She shuddered and burrowed into his arm. They lay silently together. Holding each other. 

She woke up in the middle of the night to find herself almost stripped of clothes. Her skirt and blouse discarded. She felt hot and flushed, a wonderful glow of pleasure spreading from her core throughout her body. Leo was kissing down her front, lightly blowing and nipping at her skin. They were bathed in moonlight, their bodies entwined. She arched up to meet his kisses, a low moan escaping from her throat. She tried to touch him, but found he held her hands pinned to the floor. He was kissing her breasts. Flicking the nipples with his tongue and then suckling on them. She bit her lip to stop from crying out. His hand traced up her leg, up her inner thigh, lightly skimming over her sex, teasing her, not quite touching. He trailed his hand lightly over her sex, frustrated she felt her hips jerk up. Then his hand lightly pushed against her, one finger dipping in and out as his thumb found her clit and softly began to circle it. She gasped, trembling beneath him from the force of her reaction. He smiled and kissed down her smooth stomach, lightly kissing her bellybutton. Then he reached her sex and she gasped as he licked it. She arched up again, writhing beneath him. His tongue flicked over her clit. Alternately sucking it in and circling it with his tongue and then giving it light flicks. It felt so exquisitely sensitive. She felt a heavy fire lace itself from her belly up her spine.

"It's too much, it's too much" she moaned "I can't take it."

"Yes you can Mattie" he whispered as he came up above her and plunged in. He thrust into her body, with steady sure strokes, getting faster as they both neared completion. She loved the heaviness of his body on hers, the fullness of him as he thrust in and out of her, the way his hands skimmed over her body. She came over and over, crying out, as he pushed into her, pouring his seed in to her, he let out a muffled moan.

Afterwards she turned to him and he gently kissed her forehead "Back to sleep love" he whispered.

**

The next day, they washed in the river again and continued on foot. He noticed her limping and made her sit down, despite her protests to examine her foot. He scolded her softly when he found the large painful blister. He burst it, cleaned her foot and wrapped her feet in bandages and insisted on carrying her that day to rest it.

Their days carried on, they saw a few more crushers, but Leo made sure there were no confrontations. He didn't want to risk alerting the crushers of where they were by leaving a trail of dead crushers.

***

Then one day, their journey came to an end. They finally reached the mountain pass. At the top of this mountain stood the portal. It was heavily guarded. They hid in the shadows of a neighbouring mountain ledge about a mile away.

"How on earth are we going to get up there without being captured?" Matilda asked

"We're not" Leo said grimly.

"What do you mean?" Matilda asked.

"I'll have to be captured. It's the only way to get close."

There was a long silence. "What do you mean you'll be captured? What will I be doing?"

"Mattie I can't take you up there."

She fell to her knees with a faint cry clutching her head. Then red eyes looked up at him. "She has to go with you."

The stone was in her head again.

"Get the fuck out of her! If you hurt her, then I will personally give you over to the crushers, so that they bury you so deep, you will never see the light of day again, let alone close that damn portal."

The red eyes widened slightly "Do you think that is what she would want? For you to ensure all of mankind's destruction in her name. Her heart is pure." 

"Damn you, then don't hurt her."

"I won't, if you do what I say. She must come with you."

***

The air sizzled with power. The storm was brewing. Matilda stood on the top of the small ledge. Her normally blonde hair, whipped behind her, a bright vibrant red, her glowing red eyes watching the mountain. She raised her hands and there was a crackle of red lightning. The sky darkened. There was the distant rumble of thunder. Then the rain started.

Leo watched as the storm created havoc on the guards surrounding the mountain. He saw now that there were multiple small hurricanes that kept attacking the crushers surrounding the mountain. 

He looked back at Matilda, his hands tightening into fists.

He didn't know how to protect her, didn't know how to stop the stone from using her. His only choice seemed to be to do what the stone wanted. 

He pulled the crusher armour on that they had stolen from a stray guard he had killed earlier. He pulled the dark cloak around him. It would not fool anyone looking closely, but with all the chaos going on down there, it gave them a chance. 

He gathered another helmet for Matilda, that would be ridiculously big on her, but would be better than nothing. 

Matilda turned towards him, red eyes glowing. The stone had done its work. It was time to go.

***

They made their way up the mountain together, the violent havoc that was ripping the crusher guards apart didn't touch them. It was like the storm made a clear path for them. Leo made sure that he kept Matilda close to him. He watched as crushers were literally lifted off their feet and slammed into the mountain, or each other. He almost felt sorry for them. 

The crushers were too busy trying to defend themselves to notice two small figures make their way up the windy mountain pass. Any that did, were soon dealt with by the storm.

Eventually they reached the top. Leo saw the red hoop of fire that was the portal suspended off the ground. Around it stood four very large crushers. Leo turned to the red eyes glowing out of Matilda's face "Now what?"

"Now you save the world."

He rolled his eyes and pushed her back, behind him. As the first crusher came towards him, Leo used the palm of his hand in an upward move into its face, bringing it down with blood spurting from its broken nose. A second later he delivered a round house kick into another's head making it snap back. The remaining two circled him carefully then, trying to draw him away from the portal. 

Matilda stood a little way back, red glowing eyes staring at the unfolding scene. Her face fixed and expressionless.

Leo blocked a blow as he kneed the next crusher in the groin. Twisting and taking the crushers own sword from him. He pushed the sword into the crusher's stomach. He felt a blow to the back of his head, pain laced through him, he staggered slightly.

He turned to see the final crusher. He was massive, over seven feet tall. Leo could feel blood running down his face. He could barely see. His head lolled. His body felt so heavy suddenly. He had to get the stone through the portal. If only it didn't seem so far away. If only this bloody crusher wasn't so huge.

He looked over at Matilda and felt a desperate kind of strength. He couldn't leave her to this, in the middle of the crushers, all alone. He held the stone in his hand and he tried to dodge around the crusher, but he was caught around the neck in a steel grip. The sword falling uselessly from his hand. The crusher's large hand pried the stone from him. He began to see black as the crusher's grip tightened around his neck. He clutched at his neck, his eyes turning to Matilda. 

"No.." he gasped.

Matilda's previously expressionless face now showed signs of distress. It looked like she was having an internal struggle. Her eyes flickered green for an instant, and then her red hair shimmered back to her normal honey blonde. Finally her eyes turned back to green and she let out a cry of pain and anger. "PUT HIM DOWN!"

The crusher stared at the small woman blankly for a second. Then she launched herself at him. She hit the crusher square in the chest causing him to release Leo, more out of surprise than the actual weight of her. 

She clawed at him, as he staggered back. She felt a terrible fury that he would dare hurt Leo. That she had been held immobile by the stone till it was almost too late. Then as the crusher tripped and began to fall back, she felt Leo's strong hands haul her back as the crusher finally lost its balance and fell through the red hoop of the portal, his hand still clutching the stone.

There was a flash of bright ruby red. Then a rushing sensation all around them. The portal shimmered and then seemed to suck in on itself. 

Leo lay on the hard ground clutching on for dear life to the small ball of fury from a moment ago. He held her tightly, breathing hard.

The stone was gone. The portal closed. It was over. Matilda was safe.

He turned to face her "bloody hell woman!" He grinned.

Together they made their way down the mountain to go back home.

EPILOGUE --SOME YEARS LATER

The days were warm, but the grass and flowers were still lush. Matilda sat out on the porch swing. She rocked slightly back and forth, using her feet to push her, a soft smile on her face. She held in her arms their small three year old daughter Lara, sleepy from a long day. Leo watched them for a moment. Their honey blonde hair blending as it mixed together.

There was so much goodness here, Leo thought. His eight year old son Kai was out playing in the fields with his friends. His wife and daughter looking so peaceful. It brimmed over with goodness. This was home he thought.



The Warriors' Initiation Ceremony



The warriors were weary to the bone as they made their way up the long hill to the village. Sweat glistened on their muscular torsos and dust and grime streaked their handsome faces. At last the battle was won and their homeland was once more safe.

The women of the village started ululating when they saw their men slowly making their way home. 'The gods be praised!' they cried out as they set about building a fire to heat water for the men to bathe with. Anxious eyes scanned the approaching band; mercifully no one was missing.

When the men reached the village the women fell at their feet and burst in to tears, happy to have their men back again. Jugs of weak wine and water were brought out and the men drank deeply to refresh themselves. Then they lay down their swords and took off their loin cloths and stood there, naked as the day they were born, and what a sight to behold they were.

To the last man they were fit and strong, the best fighting men for miles around. One or two of the widows gazed longingly at all that prime male flesh on display. Large cocks and small jutted out of black pubic hair that nestled at the base of flat stomachs and between powerful sun bronzed thighs. The women brought out the hot water and the men washed away the grime that coated their bodies and eased the aches and pains out of their muscles. The men laughed and joked as they recounted tales of their epic battle. They were completely at ease with each other as they washed each other's back and were totally unconcerned with having spectators as they eased back their foreskins and cleaned their cock heads.

Later that evening the men were reclined on cushions in the home of the village elder while the woman fussed about them. The best wine was brought out and they were offered olives and cheeses while the smell of roasting lamb filled the air. Everyone was happy and the men soaked up all the attention. But even happier than the women were the young men in the village; now that they had seen out nineteen winters they were due to join the ranks of the warriors.

After the meal was over the women withdrew from the room and the young men were sent for. The custom of their people demanded that the first seed that the warriors spend after returning home from battle be not in their wives, but in the hot firm asses of the young men who were due to join their ranks. 

The young men had spent quite some time preparing themselves for the occasion. They too had bathed and oiled their bodies. Most had put a dab of scented oil behind their ears. They had spent the past half hour speculating which one of the warriors they would catch the eye of. While the men were at war the young men had been practicing to be penetrated by easing their fingers up their buttholes. Now they were ready and they stood in a small circle in the middle of the room and loosened their tunics and let them fall.

There was a loud wolf whistle as their eager young cocks started to rise and the warriors drank in their beauty. The warriors got up on their feet and walked around the circle of young men, inspecting them closely, now and then tweaking a nipple or cupping a pair of plump balls.

'What a fine collection you are.' Akamas, the warriors' leader declared.

The young men blushed, each wondering which one of them would have the honour of receiving his semen. To receive the jism of such a handsome, powerful and influential man would surely bring any young man much good fortune as he set about becoming a warrior himself.

Akamas went around the circle three times before he came and stood in front of Erki. There was something intriguing about him; his hair was much lighter than most of the people in the village and it was rumoured that the man he called father was not his father at all. Erki had high cheekbones and the sexiest mouth Akamas had seen on a man. Akamas gazed into his Erki's deep blue yes and reached down and took hold of his erect cock and gently pulled on it. 

And then Akamas went down on one knee and took Erki's throbbing cock into his mouth. There was a collective gasp from the young men; it was very rare for an older man to do that. Normally the warrior would be serviced by the younger man who would then lie down and receive the older man's cock up his ass, and although it was the older man's job to please his young man that was usually done with kisses and cuddles, not by kissing his cock! The other young initiates were extremely jealous as the watched Akamas' mouth bobbing up and down on Erki's cock.

Akamas got back on his feet and took Erki by the hand.

'Come and lie down with me.' he said.

Erki could hardly contain his excitement when Akamas took off his loin cloth, exposing his large cock that was now fully erect. The two men embraced and Erki felt faint as Akamas' lips sought out his own. His hands stroked down Akamas' strong smooth back until they came upon the little patch of hair at the base of his spine. Akamas' large hands stroked over Erki's taut body and onto the firm globes of his pert little ass. He looked forward to being able to slide between those sweet cheeks, but knew that tradition demanded that he pleasure his young man first. This one night of love was meant to forge a bond that would last the whole of their lives and would see each look out for the other on the battle field.

The village elder felt a prick of jealousy and a stirring in his loins as he watched Akamas lay down with Erki and hold him close, whispering in his ear. Once he had been the older warrior who had chosen Akamas for his night of man loving. One by one the other men had paired off, leaving one lucky warrior with two young men to pleasure.

Erki reached down and wrapped his right hand around Akamas' big hairy cock. It felt warm and weighty in his hand. He slowly stroked his way to the crown and smeared the drop of love juice he found there over the spear head of Akamas' love tool. Akamas kissed Erki's brow and down his nose onto his lips. Once more Erki received Akamas' probing tongue and felt himself drowning in a sea of pleasure. The older man's expert hands stroked up and down Erki's body as the pair made slow and tender love to each other.

The village elder went from pair to pair, observing the ritual close up and making sure that none of the warriors took liberties that they were not entitled to. They had to earn their passage up their young man's ass by turning him on so much that he was desperate to be mounted and receive his warrior's seed. The elder's cock was harder than it had been for a long time and he had to reach under his tunic from time to time to give it a little tug. He was no longer sure which group he was more jealous of, the warriors for being able to penetrate those tight little butts or the young men for being able to receive a nice hard cock and to get royally fucked by it. He could still remember his rite of passage when he had been penetrated by a ruggedly handsome and hairy warrior who had proved to be a most gentle and able lover.

Akamas could see that Erki was growing desperate. He was the first young initiate to be chosen and he had the right to be the first to be penetrated. But Akamas was not yet done with teasing his young man. He slid his cock between Erki's thighs, just under his balls and gently stroked it back and forth.

'Oh, sir! Please! Fill me with your seed.' Erki begged.

'The night is still young, my friend.' Akamas whispered in his ear as he continued to stroke him. 

Erki was almost whimpering in desperation as Akamas reached down and started to slowly jerk on his rampant cock.

'Just one more kiss,' Akamas whispered 'before I give you a seeing to that will leave you breathless.'

Erki already felt breathless as once more he surrendered to Akamas' kiss. Their hands roamed all over each other, touch stroking and tugging. It was Akamas who broke off the kiss to nibble his way down Erki's smooth chest. Erki's cock bobbed about as his lover covered his whole body in kisses, even sucking on each of his toes. All around them men were locked in love and little gasps and moans rose on the still night air.

'Turn over.' Akamas told Erki at last.

The young man quickly flipped over onto his stomach. There was suddenly a heightened air of excitement in the room as the other pairs took time out to watch Erki receive his lover. Akamas gave Erki a small cushion to place under his hips, pushing his pale little bubble butt out into the air. It was a beautiful ass, one of the most perfect ones that Akamas had ever seen and he just hoped he could last long enough to give the young man the kind of pleasure he had received on his initiation.

Akamas reached down and fondled Erki's peachy cheeks, making the young man even more desperate to be taken by this high status warrior. Erki could see the envy in his age mates' eyes as they watched Akamas slide a finger between Erki's cheeks. Akamas sighed softly as his finger brushed over the textured folds of Erki's hole. He stroked it for a couple of seconds before gently pressing his finger against it, and felt it yield to his probing finger. The young man was well prepared; Akamas' finger slid in with ease and he gently worked it back and forth in the slippery warmth of Erki's chute.

At last Erki was ready and Akamas positioned himself over his lover and rubbed his hard cock between his cheeks, teasing the young man until he pushed back and ensnared Akamas' cock head. It slid in very easily after that until it was all the way in. Akamas lay down on his lover's back for a few moments, enjoying the warmth of his ass and watching the other warriors start to probe their lover's butts.

Akamas raised himself up once more and slowly withdrew from Erki's ass before sliding back into him. He fucked slowly and tenderly, now and then whispering sweet nothings in his lover's ear. From the moment he was first penetrated Erki had felt nothing but pleasure. That pleasure just seemed to keep on increasing with each stroke of that big, hard cock deep inside him. He looked around him and saw his friends all lost in their own little worlds as they felt the pleasure of being taken by a man.

The village elder had jerked himself into a frenzy now and he came and stood over Akamas and let fly his ball juice. Only a high status man such as he could get away with doing such a thing to a full grown man, but Akamas didn't mind. That spurt of man cream up his back just added to the excitement he felt. He was close now, so very close and he had already warned his young lover that he could not last much longer. As much as Erki wanted their lovemaking to go on forever he was also desperate to receive that precious seed that would bond him to the handsome warrior for all time.

Akamas grew very vocal as he approached climax and the other couples paused to watch him now. His brow was furrowed and he was sweating profusely as he increased the tempo of his fucking, driving his big cock faster and faster until the sound of his fucking filled the room. Erki's toes were curled as his pleasure intensified. He could feel his own approaching orgasm as he rubbed up against the silk covered cushion underneath him. It seemed to start deep in his ass and spread rapidly and soon he was crying out in amazement at having blasted off such a massive load of sperm without even touching himself.

When Erki's cries filled the room the other men started to cheer. How skilful that Akamas was, both on the battlefield and in bed. It was clear that he had given his lover much pleasure and now it was time for him to take his own. He bellowed like a gored bull as his protesting cock let loose a volley of potent warrior spunk that seemed to go on forever. When at last the last drop of joy juice was drained from his balls he collapsed onto Erki's back and fell into a satisfied slumber.

Erki lay there and watched the other men achieve orgasm. Now, at last, they were truly men. They could take wives and go into battle in defence of their land. But all that could wait until tomorrow; right now he was happy to enjoy the contact of Akamas' skin along the length of his back and the feel of Akamas' big bull balls nestled close to his well used and happy ass.

Copyright 2006 Daniel Blue



The Warrior's Lover



Author's note: I have used Danish words and names in this story. Søren is pronounced "Sir-en", and Skjold is pronounced "Shold".

*

Night was falling over Fort Skjold. As she crossed the courtyard with her two bucketfuls of wood ash, Lina paused to look through the lowered portcullis at the rolling plains beyond. Weather in the north may have been pretty awful, but at least the landscape was something to look at.

If the sky was clear tonight, maybe she'd try and slip out onto the walls, watch the fields and the forests turn silver in the moonlight. The fort was built high on the hill; you could see for miles around if there was no fog. Lina had been living here for ten years, and no matter how many times she saw it, the view never became less beautiful.

There were not many places where the men would accept a woman as a blacksmith, but at Fort Skjold, Lina seemed to fit in perfectly. They were more respectful of women up here than they had been back at home; back there, all that had stood between the pig-headed entitlement of the village boys and Lina's virginity was a good sword-hand and a lot of luck.

Still, most of the men here were surprised when they first saw her. Having been told there was a female blacksmith at Skjold, they generally expected to see one of two things; a hulking, six-foot Amazon with biceps like war-hammers, or some sort of busty milkmaid type who pansied around the forge in a big frilly dress.

Lina was neither of those things. Her body was slim but sturdy, nicely toned by her years of swinging a hammer and running errands during her apprenticeship. Like everyone else in the workshop, she worked in breeches, a tunic, and a good leather apron to protect her from sparks. And like everyone else, she went back to her rooms at the end of the day covered in ash and soot.

She found it hard to understand what Søren saw in her. She had borrowed a mirror from one of the handmaids once, and, after a good scrub at her washstand, had examined her face in the flickering candlelight. She saw nothing special. Certainly none of the rosy-lipped, long-eyelashed beauty of the fine ladies or their maids; hers was an even-featured face, with a few isolated freckles and a shock of cropped brown hair.

Then again, it was always dark when Søren came. So perhaps it didn't matter.

She had come to Fort Skjold when she was fourteen, after securing an apprenticeship with the master blacksmith there. Søren was one of the first men she had met. A slim, stern-looking warrior, with a clean-shaven face and dark blonde hair that was beginning to turn grey, he had stopped Lina and her new apprentice-master at the outer gates, exchanging a few curt words with the older blacksmith before waving them both in. He hadn't even looked at her.

"That's the captain of the guard," her master had told her when they were out of earshot. "I'd stay out of his way if I were you. Man's got a temper on him."

Yet while she heard him shouting on a daily basis, Lina never seemed to be the target. For a long time he barely even spoke to her. One afternoon, however, while she was practising her sword-fighting moves in an isolated yard, she had looked up suddenly and seen him watching from a high window.

He didn't say anything to her, but on her next day off, there was a hammering at her door. "I'm in bed," Lina had called out. "Who is it?"

"Get up," came Søren's voice. "Swordfighting lesson."

Lina was still half-asleep, but even in her current state, she realised that this might be the only opportunity she would get to improve her skills. So she went. And that was how Lina came to spend her every free morning sparring with Søren in the same small courtyard.

He gave her just enough quarter to let her improve and learn, but he never went easy on her. More often than not, Lina would find herself flat on her back, with Søren barking at her to get up. As the months and the years went by, however, Lina found herself falling less and less often, and while she could not hope to match Søren's years of experience as a swordsman, her skills flourished at an alarming rate. Now, some ten years later, he could still beat her—but not as quickly.

After that first day, Søren was continually finding errands for her to do, or coming by the workshop to examine (and often criticise) Lina's handiwork. It took her six years to realise that his sharp commands and spurious visits were his way of getting closer to her; the only way, she suspected, he knew. That day, her technique was abysmal; noticing for the first time the smooth movements of the body beneath his armour, the silver sheen to his hair, she failed to pay attention to her footwork, and by the end of the lesson was bruised from so many falls.

"That was awful," Søren told her gruffly.

"I know," Lina replied.

"Next week, then," he said, after a pause, and stalked off.

He had his own rooms above the barracks; it was no challenge at all getting there without being seen. Surprisingly for a man of Søren's temperament, the door was unlocked. Lina wondered later if he had been expecting her. Quietly, she pushed the door open; heard the rustle of bedsheets and a sword being drawn.

"Who's there?"

"It's me," she breathed. She heard the sheets move again as he rose uncertainly to his feet. Lina stepped in, closing the door behind her. The room was dark, but she could just about make out where the bed was. Steeling herself, she shrugged out of her shift and let it fall to the floor, then stepped uncertainly toward him, preparing herself for rejection, perhaps even humiliation if he decided to turf her out without letting her get dressed again.

There was a tense and drawn-out silence. He was waiting, she realised, and the knowledge made her bold. She came to him, gripped his wrist, and placed it on her breast; as she pressed herself against him she found he was already hard for her. His lips graced her neck. The gesture sent a sting of renewed lust throughout her body, and before she knew it she was pulling him down onto the bed and on top of her, easing him into her, giving him what she had given no other man before him.

Though she was moist and ready for him, still there was some pain, but he moved with experienced tenderness and his hands were surprisingly gentle. Soon the pain was gone, and her own hands were pulling at his hips, urging him deeper.

"Trust me," he growled, breaking the silence, and wrapped his arms around her suddenly, pulling them both into a sitting position, she straddling him still. Lina realised with a jolt that he was supporting her weight fully. "Trust me," he said again, and trembling with desire, she lowered herself onto him, feeling his full length inside her, his breaths hot and fervent against her collarbone.

She felt a delicious pressure building within her, a pressure she recognised from her nights alone in her bed, but this time it came from somewhere deeper within her flesh, and she clapped her hand against her mouth to keep from crying out. His breaths quickened as she tensed and climaxed around him, pressing herself tight against him, their bodies impossibly hot, impossibly close. Søren held her as she came.

She rested against him for a moment, her heart thumping. Then she moved her hips again, her thighs slick with sweat. "Your turn," she breathed, and her voice seemed to send a shudder of arousal through him. He pushed her down onto her back, grinding his hips to hers; she felt a new urgency in the way his arms surrounded her, and clamped her legs around his waist, driving him deeper still. Moments before he came, he withdrew from her, his seed spilling over her thighs and stomach. She reached between them, caressed his member as it slowly lost its stiffness, the semen warm and slick against her hand.

There was an unspoken acknowledgement between them that she could not stay there. She slipped out from beneath him, picking up her shift from the floor, and left without a word. Still dizzy from her recent orgasm and the knowledge of what she had just done, she just about managed to make it back without arousing suspicion, but could not sleep the rest of that night for the memory of his body, his fading warmth on her skin.



The Warriors Reward



The Dragon Armada slid silently through space, drawing inexorably nearer their ultimate goal; the mythical home world of all humanity, Earth. Legend told that long ago all humans came from a single planet, a small blue & green world known as Earth. But then rose the Exarch. How the Exarch took power over the entire planet is unknown, but was believed to have been the first to do so. In time, the Exarch had declared that Earth, as the birthplace of humanity, was too precious for any human to live upon, and exiled all human life, himself included, from the planet. Twelve great ships were constructed, each named for one of the animals of the Chinese Zodiac, and the populace of the planet was divided amongst them, and sent out of Earths solar system with no maps showing the location of the planet.

That was thousands of years ago, and none now knew if the tale were ever true, or if it was just a fantasy cooked up by the ancients when they began to discover that other planets held similar forms of life. Since launching four years ago from their home planet Kai Alpha, the space-faring Dragon Armada had discovered seven separate "human" cultures. Each culture had similar levels of technology, similar belief systems, and similar legends, including the tale of the Exarch and the Exile from Earth. Admiral Lindsey Ty had decided that the 117 ships of the armada would seek out the home world of their people.

Such lofty goals were not the concern of Commander Kensit Roosevelt, however. Born aboard a space faring, FTL equipped vessel, Kensit had never set foot on any planet unless there was combat to be had there, and he never stayed once victory was assured. Kensit was seemingly born to battle and bloodshed. He had joined the Marines at the age of 14, and had gotten his first confirmed kill seven months later. Some would say that after that point, he had become a killing machine. He had more CK's than any other Marine in the Dragon Free Republic's history, and he was only 24 years old.

Last year he had been given command of the Eleventh Fire Team, known as the Iron Horse Legion. His twelve-man unit had the best kill-to-casualty rate in the DFR Marine Corps. That afforded them the privilege of first choice of spoils acquired in raids they participated in. Kensit universally allowed his surviving men to pick through the goods first, choosing what they wanted for themselves before passing on the leftovers to the replacements. Anything left after that, he took for himself. He was acquiring quite a collection of junk.

After signing off on the debriefing reports for a supply raid against the Leikzeg Colony, Kensit was returning to his room. His battle uniform had several burns scored into it from enemy weapons, but none had touched his flesh this time. The standard black-and-gray battlesuit was capable of deflecting a majority of hand held civilian defensive weapons, and these colonials rarely had much in the way of military hardware. Removing his gloves, he held his hand to the pad by the door to room 2206, the cabin that had been given him as a commander. It was about the size of the one he used to share with four others, but it was his alone. He had not taken advantage of many of the benefits of command. He still ate with his men, instead of in the executive dining room. He showered in the communal showers, and took his entertainment in the Enlisted Club. But as a man who had spent his entire life on cramped starships, the lure of having nearly 20 square feet of space to call his own was too much temptation to ignore.

Before the door to his room finished sliding open, Kensit had unholstered his sidearm and slid to the side himself. There was something wrong. He kept his room very spartan. There was nothing in there but a bed and an antique music replay system that he had scavenged and rebuilt as a child. Certainly nothing to create the scent of nightlilly, which he smelled the instant the door had cracked open. Nightlilly was a bio-engineered plant used by those of the unorthodox faith known as The Seeking. It was mildly aphrodisiac to men, and could induce trance-like states and, supposedly, visions in women. DFR scientists had identified it as a psi-neural disinhibitor, which meant that it enhanced psychic powers. The use of psychic powers was outlawed in the DFR, as a violation of the Citizens Privacy Rights Act.

Standing silently beside his door, blaster warm next to his cheek, he listened. The sound he heard was unmistakable... breathing. From the short, shallow sounds he guessed it was a woman sobbing softly, a sound he heard often on Colony Raids. He holstered the sidearm and stepped into the room, ready to defend himself, but almost certain he wouldn't have to. As he had guessed, the woman knelt in the center of the room, wearing a tattered orange jumpsuit with a patch he recognized quickly. Monkey. She was one of the colonists from the planet they had just raided; it had been a Colony of those strange people. Even after thousands of years, most people still identified themselves after the animal for which their original colonization ship had been named. In some cases, they had come to think of themselves as a Clan. This was the case for these people. The Monkey Clan were primarily non-violent people, though they had developed a variety of deadly hand-to-hand techniques, as well as giving birth to the scientist who first theorized the particle weapons now in common use throughout known space.

The woman was fairly attractive, with pale skin and blonde hair that was almost white. She was shapely, with round hips that suggested that her people, unlike those of the Dragon Free Republics, had not given up on live birth of babies. Her breasts were large, another indicator that her people still valued Motherhood. She raised her head to look at him with teary gray-blue eyes. Her hands were bound, but she didnt seem to have been mistreated. Kensit sighed. He suspected she constituted his portion of the "loot" from the most recent raid. Upon occasion the men and women of his unit felt the need to "get him laid." They had yet to succeed, as sex wasn't something Kensit had ever considered a good expenditure of his time. It wasn't that he had never had sex, it was just that he had never had any that made him feel as if he should seek out more.

The look in the woman's eyes spoke volumes. Kensit was not an unattractive man, by the standards of most. He was not tall, but he was broad shouldered and his lifetime as a soldier had given him a hard physique. He wore his fiery red hair long, though it was almost always in a tight tail at the base of his skull, and was tucked beneath his helmet during missions. His blue eyes were piercing, he had mastered using them to speak so that he didn't have to. The woman had not expected the commander coming to rape her to be young or attractive.

Kensit moved to the communication device implanted on the wall, planning to have security come remove the woman so that he could get to sleep. "What... what are you doing?"

"Getting rid of you so I can sleep. I don't know how I managed to not kill you down on the planet, but I assure you it wasn't for lack of trying. You must be an expert coward, to have hidden so well our scanners didn't pick you up."

"Wait!" the woman's fear was audible, causing Kensit to remove his finger from the button that rung for security and turn to face her. "I... I want to make you feel good. To give you pleasure." 

Kensit scowled at her. "Don't grovel. I'm not interested." He began to reach for the button once more.

"You don't understand, Sir. If you call them, they will take me to the slave pool, or worse. I would sooner die. So if you do not want me, kill me."

Kensit sighed deeply. What the woman said was true. The Dragon Free Republics relied heavily on slave labor, and captured colonists made up the bulk of those slaves. The life of a slave was not a thing to be envied. They were given the most dangerous and difficult physical work. Kensit knew that this woman, probably in her thirties, was nearing or past the expected lifespan of a DFR slave. Walking over to her, he put a finger under her chin and raised her eyes to meet his. "Do you have a name?"

"They call me Tursa, Sir." She smiled up to him and reached for the clasp of his uniform. Kensit started to resist, but the woman kept her eyes locked on his. After a moment, his battle uniform lay on the ground, and the woman was removing his boots quickly, but with unexpected tenderness. Her warm hands slid up his naked thigh. He thought again about resisting, but as her small hand grasped his cock, a jolt of electricity fired throughout his body. No woman's mere touch had ever made him feel like this before. As she began to stroke his manhood, he looked down at her and found her meeting his gaze, her eyes full of desire rather than loathing or guilt. With her free hand she unzipped the top of her bodysuit, then released him long enough to slide out of the tight uniform. Without rising from the floor, she presented her nude self to him.

Kensit's breathing quickened as he looked at her soft curves and the generous rounding swells of her breasts and hips. The women of the DFR had not given birth to babies in over a hundred generations, and the feminine aspects of their appearance had started to fade. Kensit had never seen a person naked before who's body was not hardened to fighting perfection, as was the norm in the Dragon Free Republics. He found this soft, feminine woman far more attractive than anyone he had ever been with.

The woman's hand once more resumed its slow stroking of his rigid manhood. Now she pressed the tip of his shaft between her generous breasts. His eyes widened as he watched her manipulate him. No words needed to be said; she understood without instruction how to please him. He closed his eyes , and soon felt something warm and wet, something that felt like heaven wrapped around his cock. Looking down, he saw that the woman had put him into her mouth and was stroking his cock with it. The feeling was entirely new to him, and he closed his eyes once more to enjoy it.

Tursa could feel the growing heat and wetness between her thighs. She had never seen a man before whom she had instantly wanted to make love to, but this young DFR Commander had sparked something within her. She had been with men before... the Monkey Clans rigid caste system had placed her within the "entertainment" caste, which for women meant extensive training in giving pleasure. The purpose of her existence was to have been to please the men of the Enlightened Caste, so that they would not have to spend time looking for ways to sate their desires. That was why she had fled as soon as she could toward the Colonies. In the Colonies, she had hoped she would be free of the castes. But even there she had not been able to free herself. Then came the DFR. Their great armada attacked colonies ruthlessly, taking what supplies they needed to continue their relentless war against... whatever it was they were out to defeat or destroy. She had not really been afraid when she had heard they would come to her planet. She had been intrigued. What was it that drove them to this incredible violence. She had made plans. When they had come, she had snuck aboard one of their landing craft. Her attempts to avoid capture had led her to hide in this out-of-the-way cabin. At first she had intended to sate this man, lull him into slumber, and then escape once more. But she could not deny her attraction to him.

Pulling her mouth away from his cock, she let it slide off with a wet pop. He opened his eyes to look at her once more, and she let her eyes invite him as she spread her legs and laid back, letting the pleasant smell of her desire reach him as well. Taking the hint readily, he slid between her legs and kissed her, a passionate, fierce kiss that shocked and excited her. Wrapping her feet behind his body, she pulled his cock toward her waiting pussy. As he entered her, she felt a shock of energy run through her body. His cock fit her perfectly, stretching her just enough to cause a pleasant tingle of pain. She laid her head back and cried out as he began to thrust himself into her. He made love like the warrior he was, growling lustily. Tursa could barely think, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and tried madly to pull him deeper within her. Her loud moans became shouts of ecstasy, but she could somehow hear his own pleasure-drenched shouts as he began to throb within her. It was only a moment before she felt him bury himself in her. She invited him to complete himself within her, screaming fitfully for him to make her his own. His orgasm sent waves of warmth through her even as his cum filled her willing pussy and squeezed out past the seal she made on his cock. In his pleasure he thrust even harder within her, pushing her over the edge. Her body convulsively gripped him as she began to feel waves of pleasure spreading over her. For several minutes she held him inside her with her legs, moaning wildly with no control of her body. As her orgasm began to fade, she allowed him to slump down, laying on top of her, their breath in perfect synch as they attempted to regain control of their own bodies.

Tursa could not believe how safe she felt with this man, who she had just met, ostensibly an enemy, holding her in his arms. She smiled and relaxed, glad she had stumbled into this room in her attempts to hide. Suddenly a chime sounded, and Kensit rolled to his feet, his movements smooth like those of a hunting cat. He pulled on his clothes and moved to the door, glancing to make sure she had covered herself before he opened the door. Two armed security personnel stood at his door. "Sir," one of them said, "we're investigating the possible presence of a class 1-A Psychic on board the ship. May we take a look around your room."

Kensit didn't bother arguing. He knew what it would mean if the woman he had been with was a psychic. They called it "decontamination" but what it meant was brain washing. Those were decontaminated were never the same again. The Marines called them zombies. The two men walked around his empty room, then looked at him, obviously surprised. "Sir... have you had any visitors lately?"

Kensit shook his head. "No. Why?"

"Security showed entrance to your room prior to your return to the ship."

Kensit nodded. The woman had been here since before he had returned from the raid. That meant she had not been left for him by his colleagues. As the two men left, talking quietly over recent problems with the shipboard computers, Kensit began looking for the woman. But before he could move to the bed, she materialized in the middle of the room. "How...?"

Tursa smiled demurely. "They respect you. They hoped that you were not a traitor. I let them see what they wanted to see. And you as well."

Kensit frowned and strapped his boots on. Then the woman was a psychic. He was tainted now, but that was not his chief concern. "We have to get you out of here. If they find you, you're dead." Grabbing her by the hand, he went to the door and peeked out before sneaking out into the hallway.



The Warrior's Song



Sherry's hands were slick with sweat, and she surreptitiously wiped them on her jeans, hoping like hell that no one noticed.  She was supposed to be confident, in charge, but felt very unsure of herself in the moments leading up to the ceremony.  Her first healing ceremony, after long years of study and practice, and she was finally trusted enough to take the place of strength at the patient's feet. She was terrified.  

Random moments from her studies flitted through her mind like birds on speed, and she closed her eyes, and forced herself to focus.  Her breathing became slower and deeper and then her training began to take over.  She opened her eyes, and nodded to her partner for the evening, the shaman doing the actual healing, Diane Littlefeather, who began the song.  Sherry closed her eyes, and was gone, somewhere in the ether, watching for whatever might approach and take advantage of Diane's openness.

It first appeared as a patch of darkness, swelling and moving like a fogbank rolling in from the sea, but it felt malevolent. Sherry gathered her strength around her, and her mind called out to her guides, Koi chito (the cougar), Hushi (the hawk), and Sinti (the snake) for help.  They were there within an instant, guarding Diane as she worked her healing on the person prone in front of her.  Diane's soul was open while she healed and she was depending on Sherry to watch over her.

The darkness came closer, and a pair of cold, blue eyes stared out, meeting Sherry's gaze, and she began to sing the words of strength, her voice ringing through the space.  To her astonishment, she heard deep, booming laughter, and the eyes came closer. A snarl came from her right, her warrior side, and Koi chito launched itself at the darkness, muscles bunched and hair standing on end.  The fog retreated reluctantly, still laughing; the echoes lingering even after it had disappeared. Sherry finally felt herself being called back down, and she went with the call, grateful it was over.

She opened her eyes to see Diane looking at her, lines of concern etched in her forehead. "It's done...are you okay?"

Sherry nodded, afraid to try to speak.  She could feel the cold lines of sweat that had run down her sides while she had been gone, her hands were clasped tightly together, the muscles in her arms so tight they were beginning to ache. Accepting Diane's hand, she stood, and realized her legs were a little shaky, but Sherry made her way slowly outside to gulp at the cool night air.

Diane's voice startled her, "Was it that bad?"

"Oh....no, it wasn't.  I guess I just wasn't sure what to expect, that's all.  I didn't realize I'd be this tired."  Sherry wasn't ready to share her experiences yet, if ever.

Diane smiled as she turned to walk to her truck.  "You did good, kid.  Relax, the first time's over now, and you did great.  It gets easier now."

Sherry's smile was slight as she answered, "Thanks.  I'll see you later, then.  Joseph's waiting for me."

She heard Diane’s' "goodnight" as she turned towards Joseph's truck.  The thought of his warm presence quickened her steps and she found the energy to smile at him as she climbed up in his truck. He leaned over to press a kiss against her lips, and asked, his voice soft and deep, "How'd it go?

"Fine, but I'm tired....didn't realize it would take as much out of me as it did." Sherry impatiently pushed the wayward strands of black hair that had escaped from her braid behind her ears, and realized it was limp and damp between her fingers, as if it had been a humid mid-summer night, instead of the cool temperatures of early spring. She closed her eyes, and leaned her head back against the seat for the short ride home.  Joseph was here, she could relax.

The sound of the truck tires crunching on the gravel of their driveway woke Sherry from her doze.  She shook the tendrils of sleep out of her mind, and headed inside, Joseph's arm slung around her shoulders, it's weight warm and familiar.

"You want me to make us some coffee?" Joseph asked once they were inside.

"No, thanks, babe...I'm beat.  I think I'm just going to take a hot bath and then head to bed." She headed towards the bathroom, her mind turning over the experiences she'd had at the ceremony.

She undressed, laying her clothes across the countertop before pulling the shower curtain back and turning the water on. As the tub started to fill, she sat on the edge and carefully undid her braid, letting her hair fall free, and then running her fingers through it's length.

It was then that she saw it, a movement in the corner of her eye. It was nothing definite, just a faint shadow that moved swiftly past her and was gone. 'A trick of the light', she thought. 

A slight chill ran up her spine. She shook it off and chuckled nervously and then stood and eyed herself in the mirror. "You're not going to freak out now, Sherry Hawk. It's just your imagination; get a grip."

Selecting a packet of herbs from a shelf, she poured some out in her hand and scattered them into the steaming water rising in the tub. Sitting again on the edge, she swirled the water with her hand, testing the temperature and stirring the beads. Satisfied, she lifted her right leg into the tub and slid into the hot water, dragging her left leg in last. 

She sighed, feeling the warmth soaking into her, closed her eyes and leaned her head back. Swirling the water over her, she let her mind drift, soaring out over the meadow like her namesake, comfortable in the familiar surroundings.

Sherry found herself lying in the tall grass, a warm breeze caressing her bare body. And her companions were there. Hushi circled lazily over her as Sinti wove through her long hair and around her neck, Koi chito lay close by and nuzzled her hand for attention. She absently scratched between his ears listening to the cries of Hushi. 

It was Koi chito's ears that caught her attention, suddenly erect and facing forward, his eyes narrowed, and he began to growl softly, rumbling through his body. Sinti released himself from her and coiled close by, head wavering as if looking for an opening to strike. Hushi darted down, turning sharply behind her as a dark, wispy tendril reached closer to her. Koi chito crouched on his haunches ready to pounce.  The booming laughter rang out again as the tendril receded out of sight. 

Water splashed as Sherry woke with a start. She quickly took inventory of her surroundings. The water was cold and murky. She rose, grabbing a towel and pushed the drain lever. Stepping out, she wrapped the towel tightly around her body. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she dried her hair, and she took a deep breath and made a conscious effort to calm herself.

"Don't let this get to you, Hawk. You are strong enough to handle this. Stop being so jumpy." She stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror, eyes wide, trying to get a grip on her emotions.  She smiled as she refastened her towel more tightly around her. "I may not be a teenager anymore but I'm still sexy woman."

"Yes, you are." Came the voice from behind her. "And even more so than when you were a teenager. You are far from old, and you are still the most frighteningly beautiful woman I have ever seen."

Her smile broadened as she turned toward Joseph, keeping the towel pulled back for him.

"Feeling better? I was beginning to wonder. You've been in here for over an hour."

"I'm feeling much better now." Sherry replied as she sauntered to him and pressed her damp body against him. "I always feel better with you here."

"Maybe so," He pulled the towel tight around her again, "but as beautiful as you are, you still look pretty tired. I think what you need is a good night's rest. No arguments. Off to bed with you now."

"You'll get no arguments from me as long as I can use you as a pillow."

"That would be my pleasure." He took her hand and led her to the bedroom. Removing her towel and tossing it aside, he pulled back the quilt before lifting her and gently setting her on the bed. She fell back lightly, her hair cascading over the pillows, slipping her legs between the sheets as Joseph pulled the covers over her. She was already drifting off as he slid in beside her. A warm feeling washed over her as his arms wrapped around her and pulled her snug against his bare chest.  Sherry inhaled his scent and a smile crossed her face, and then sleep overtook her.





The Warrior's Song



Both were silent on the quick drive to Diane Littlefeather's house, each thinking over the events of the night before.  The lines of concern hadn't left Joseph's eyes, and he had kept close to her ever since she had woken them both with her screams.  Sherry was all too happy to have him close.  His warm presence was reassuring.

Diane greeted them at the door, her black and silver hair still tussled, and still rubbing sleep from her eyes.  Her eyes met Sherry's, briefly, then she stood aside, and wordlessly waved them into the house.

"Coffee's ready....y'all want some?  You look like you might need it."  Diane stood at the counter, stirring her own mug of coffee, the steam rising from it in the cool morning air.  Sherry and Joseph both nodded, and she took down two more mugs and filled them, then set them in front of the couple at her kitchen table before pulling out a chair and flopping down into it.

"Okay, guys.......spill it.  What the hell is going on?"

Joseph nodded almost imperceptibly at Sherry, and she began to repeat her story to Diane, leaving out nothing, not even the strange occurrence at the healing ceremony the night before. When she reached the retelling of the woman's death, her breath hitched in her throat, and Joseph reached out and held her hand, giving her comfort. Sherry finished the tale, and then slumped in her chair, as if by telling her friend and teacher, it had taken some of the weight of the experience off her shoulders.

Diane was silent a moment, lost in thought, then spoke, "I know this man."

"What?" Sherry's eyes were large with surprise, the circles under them from lack of sleep startling.

"I knew him very well, actually.  Shilombish Lusa." Diane shuddered with the mention of his name. "He was my teacher."

"Shilombish Lusa?  What does that mean?" The unfamiliar syllables of the old language were rough in Joseph's mouth.

Sherry thought for a moment, then looked at Diane. "Something.....spirit?"

"Black Spirit." Diane answered. "He wasn't always called that, not when I knew him, anyway. Then he was Peter 'Redblanket' Bradley.  Unassuming name, isn't it?  As far as I know, he still goes by that name, but there are several of us who know him otherwise, now."

Sherry didn't understand.  "But...if he...why?"

Diane sighed.  "I don't know why.  I don't think anyone knows why, Sherry.  He was a very good man when I knew him.  I lost touch after he left the rez, back before either one of you were born. I heard rumors that he'd gotten greedy, that he wasn't using his teachings the way he should.  And then, I met him, much as you did, one night.  But, when he saw it was me, he backed off, and I haven't even heard a whisper of him since then."

"Diane, he scares me......very badly."

"I know he does.  He means to.  That's why he put on that display for you last night.  But, something you need to remember, Sherry...that's all he can do to you.  He can't touch you."

"What do you mean, he can't touch me?  He killed that woman last night!"  Sherry jumped up from her chair, and started pacing around the kitchen.  Joseph followed her with his eyes, but didn't say anything; this wasn't his area of expertise.

"Sherry," Diane's voice grew firm; she became the teacher once again, "that was a show he put on specifically for you.  He knows what will bother you the most, what will frighten you.  His aim is to drive you away from healing.  If he's already gotten you this frightened, then his job is almost done, isn't it?  You can fight him.  You are stronger than he is simply because you are doing what is right, and he isn't.  There is only so much a man like that can do, and he can't affect you physically."

Sherry stopped her pacing to lean against the kitchen counter, arms crossed under her breasts.  "What about the woman he killed?  What about her?"

"She was a prop, nothing more.  Was she real?  I can't answer that, Sherry.  I wish I could.  My guess would be that she's someone that he's roped into thinking the way he does, and it was all an act."

"But you don't know that for sure, do you?  You don't know."

Diane sighed once again.  "No, I don't."





The Warrior's Story



Note:

This story was originally written to form a basis for a sexual fantasy within another story. I decided to submit it as a stand-alone. Since it was extracted from that other story, expect non-sequiturs and such. Poetic license, so to speak. 

===========

Another world

Introduction:

On another world in our galaxy, the people have always been at war with their neighboring states. The armies consisted at one time of men; however, after many generations of war, the male population has dwindled to a small percentage of the population. Now, women are the warriors and battle each other. This has been the result of a change of mood. The battles are less about feuding and land grabs and more about entertainment, television entertainment.

The few men left are doing the 'heavy lifting' as heavy machinery operators and such; being inseminators in a male brothel; or occupying some military positions. There are no other occupations for them. This is now a matriarchal / lesbian society, perhaps with too many women; therefore, the hostility continues.

Those few men who have been chosen have gone through military training as company commanders. They are of officer rank and do not engage in the actual fighting. They are far too valuable as inseminators. The first few years of their service, they are in the rear echelons at headquarters learning newer aspects of battle and participating in the planning of logistics and television entertainment. When they have been promoted from 2nd Lieutenant to 1st Lieutenant to Subaltern, they take the command of a new company of sixty women warriors: six units of ten women each. A third of the units do not fight on the front line, but they have logistical duties and guard their encampment while other warriors are on the battlefield. A few are medics.

Each unit consists of five veterans and five rookies who learn from the veterans. Each pair of vet and rookie lives together in a tent. Until she has known battle, the rookie belongs to the vet as her bitch and services her tent-mate. After her second battle, if she survives, the girl is no longer considered a rookie and sex in her tent flows in both directions. 

She has been raised as a warrior and knows no other life. She wears no makeup or is even aware of the more feminine aspects of her womanhood; she wears her hair in long, thick braids which she coils under a padded leather helmet to further protect her head in battle; in camp and in public, she wears a short, wrap around skirt tied at two corners. She wears a scarf around her neck that hangs down over her breasts. 

In battle, she wears mid thigh leather boots; a leather jacket that reaches almost to the boot tops; heavy padded gloves; long padded leather cuffs on her forearms; and a leathern cape. The leather has been impregnated with chemicals to make it as hard and almost as impenetrable as a light metal. 

To indicate that she is a warrior, she wears wrist, ankle and midriff straps of the same meta-leather. The wrist and ankle straps are approximately three cm's wide and the waistband is slightly more than five cm's wide. The last two cm's are raised and chemically bonded together, and a permanent locking ring is inserted through the two cm ends. The bands are not removable. She is instantly recognized in public as a warrior, looked up to, and given certain privileges. She is considered a television star that will provide entertainment in battle.

In battle, she is not that fortunate as she may be killed, badly wounded, or captured and used as her captor chooses. 

The women battle each other using a two-meter wooden mace or cudgel about five cm's thick. One end of the mace is blunt; the other end is sharpened to a point and crowned with a conical overlay of bronze - a very sharp piece of bronze. Her only other weapon is a foot long knife she wears on her belt. 

The battles are stylized and almost choreographed. Protocol manages almost every aspect of the fighting. They march into battle nude with the exception of their color-coded scarves designating their army, company, and unit; they are followed by horse-drawn wagons that carry their gear, rations, and other equipment. Just before reaching the battlefield, the five drovers/medics disseminate gear, which is donned prior to battle. One fourth of the company, fifteen warriors, has been left behind in case the camp is attacked. Each of the four other companies has also left fifteen warriors behind to protect the entire encampment. 

A soldier from Earth would never recognize the type of warfare in which these women participate. They march in a single woman phalanx no more than a company, forty abreast, against an equal number of enemy troops. They clash one on one and fall back to the rear if there is no single combatant to engage. As a company is beaten or retires, fresh troops fill the gaps, but the front line remains a single file; there is up to a depth of ten to their battle line if there is more than a single company participating; however, only the front rank does battle.

This would seem to be more a sport than a military encounter IF there weren't wounded, unconscious and dead left on the field. These stylized battles are televised and are a major source of entertainment to the more bloodthirsty populace. The opposing armies do not have access to the broadcasts. The television broadcasts are aptly named, "War Games."

It is considered a 'foray' when a unit or company, attempts to infiltrate an enemy's encampment or meets an enemy patrol; a 'skirmish' when five to ten companies -- two to four hundred fighting women - fight; and a 'battle' if there are four thousand warriors on each side. The depth of warriors could reach one hundred if the entire armies are on the field. Only a small number are killed, but many are wounded or beaten unconscious. Then they are left until the battle is over. A very few who are still conscious and captured must decide whether to capitulate and yield or be dispatched; those that yield are taken prisoner as worker and sex slaves for the rest of their lives. 

Our heroine has been indoctrinated in training to fight until she is unconscious or dead, and she has been told horror stories about what happens to captured women. She has the battlefield choice of death or capture which ends her previous life either way. She has also a third choice, but this may be the worst. She can offer up her breasts as war trophies to the woman warrior who captures her alive and conscious. She can then return home, but is then considered a pariah and given menial military tasks. She often returns to battle and allows herself to be killed. The new owner of her breasts has gained much face as a hero at her encampment -- and on TV.

If the warrior falls, dead or unconscious, her victor will open her leather jacket and plant a three cm pennant in each of the prone woman's breasts. The plastic V-shaped piece reflects the victor's army, regiment, company, unit and tent by color coding, lettering, and numbering. The lower one cm contains a barb that is not easily removed once planted.

Should the warrior fall still conscious or is otherwise incapacitated, she must decide between servitude and death. She puts her arm over her eyes, which indicates that she prefers death. To live and accept capture, she supplicates by holding her arms out to her victor and pleads for her life: "I yield."

She removes her jacket and other armor; she sits and uses two snap rings, that she has carried in her pack, to connect her wrists to her ankles and lies back, unable to stand or run away. Her victor plants the small pennants in her breasts, and she remains where she is until her victor returns to take her captive. While she waits, she may think twice about being a slave and request to be dispatched or offer up her breasts to be set free. Of course, there is also the possibility of one of her comrades coming back through enemy lines to free her. Not likely. However, a designated warrior, an umpire, on each side walks through her enemies' ranks and checks fallen warriors. If the downed woman is dead, the umpire will put the deceased's scarf over her face and the body, sans nipples, will be picked up when the battle is over.

Unconscious or wounded warriors, sans scarves, will also be picked up and taken back to their units.

If she is killed in battle, her nipples will be taken by her foe as a way of counting coup. Her nipples will be soaked in chemicals to retain their original texture and bonded as a pair on a narrow backing. The victorious warrior will wear them as a necklace or from her waist belt. They are a source of pride for the warrior as they indicate how many of the enemy she has dispatched. 

Nipple (or breast) removal and/or a coup de grace will be televised for the 'enjoyment' of the populace.

While little metal is wasted on the military, this is not a backward planet in terms of technology. Civilians have television in their homes. War Games are the prime time shows.

Should the warrior be knocked unconscious, the victor will take her scarf as a war souvenir, another way of counting coup. To her humiliation, the beaten warrior will return to camp without her organizational scarf. Her bare breasts will bear testimony to the fact that she had been bested on the battlefield. She will feel disgrace, humiliation, and loss of face among her fellow warriors. She must take a foe's scarf and nipples in a succeeding battle before she can wear regimental colors again. Until then, she may wear a plain black scarf, and her comrades will consider her as dead until she has proved herself in battle again.

The Warrior's Story

Battle

Kai'la's thoughts: 

This is my third battle in this past year, and I finally feel the confidence to become a great warrior. I have fought and won seven individual fights. I have scarves hanging in my tent and nipples hanging from my belt to show my prowess. 

This is my third fight in this battle, and I'm a bit fatigued, so I better stay on my toes and not get too cocky. This warrior I'm fighting now looks young and fresh, so this may be her first battle, maybe her first fight. She looks young enough to have just graduated this spring from a military academy. I'm confident that I can best her, but I better not be over confident. We're always warned about that.

I'm going to be somewhat defensive until I can learn her strategy and then go on full attack. I'd love to take her prisoner and use that pretty mouth to full advantage, but in any case I'll take her nipples. I wonder if she'd give up her breasts instead of becoming my sex slave. Her battle vest is molded around her breasts and would indicate that she has fairly large ones. They'd look great hanging from my cudgel stuck in the ground just outside my tent. 

OOPS~! That hurt. My arm is a bit numb from her attack. I've got to keep my mind on what I'm doing, or she might get within my defenses again. 

There~! I rattled her cage with a blow to her thigh. She limped a few steps back and may have been hurt more than it would seem. I'll be careful, but I'll press my advantage. I want this bitch. I can almost feel her tongue up inside my pussy. Just a little more pressure and then I'll try to trip her by shoving my cudgel between her legs and turning quickly. I could probably dispatch her more easily, but I want her flat on her back with my knife at her throat and hear those sweet words: "I yield." I'm getting aroused just thinking of all the things I'll have her do when she's my prisoner and sex slave.

Ouch~! That was just a glancing blow to the side of my head, but it made my vision blur for a moment. Got to be more careful and watch for her change of pace. She's a bit better than I gave her credit for at first. Her tent mate has taught her well. She didn't learn that trick from the academy. 

Caught her again with a slash to her thighs. I may have -- yes, I did; she's bleeding from that blow. My cudgel must have slipped inside her armor. Good, she'll begin to wonder if she's going to lose. She'll begin to make mistakes, and I'll bring her down.

I've been watching her maneuvers carefully, and I can see an opening when she goes through a stepped up attack and then retreats. I'll wait through her regimen and go for her legs at the right time. When she's down, I think I'll sit on her face and have her suck me out. I must be pretty ripe after all the exertion and sweat from marching here and the fights I've already won. That thought makes me even hornier. 

Steady, Kai'la. Wait for the opening. It'll come soon, and I'll have that pretty face between my legs, right here on the battlefield; her sucking my pussy as the battle rages all around us. That's not protocol, but I want her tongue up inside me as soon as possible. 

After she's down, and I've had her suck me out, I'll flag her breasts, secure her and go back to take the nipples I've earned. I won't remove my pennants from her breasts until we're back at camp, and I've paraded her around naked with my pussy juices drying on her pretty face. I should get a lot more respect from my comrades then. Or maybe, she'll yield her breasts, and I'll hang them from my cudgel and show them off around camp. Stop it Kai'la~! Keep your mind on the fight, not on your pussy. 

Damn it~! I missed. She stepped back and my cudgel point missed her belly by only a centimeter or two. She's trickier than I thought, but soon, real soon, I'll be coming in her mouth.

Here it comes. She's nearing the end of her routine, and there'll be an opening for me to trip her. All it'll take then is a flurry of blows, and she'll be flat on her behind. I haven't had a chance to look at her bottom, but by her narrow waist and broader hips, she must have a nice inverted heart shaped rear. I can just see myself biting her butt cheeks and even the inside of her young, soft thighs. I'm sweating from the exertion, but I'm getting even hotter thinking about fucking this pretty bitch.

NOW~! An opening. Go for it, Kai'la. Shove your cudgel between her legs and rush to her left. She'll go down, and I'll have her. 

Damn~! My ears are ringing and my vision is red and blurry. Crap~! I'm lying on my back, and I've lost my cudgel. She caught me across my temple when I tried to trip her. Holy Novae. I'm her prisoner. My heart is racing and feels like it's going to explode inside my chest. Her cudgel point is at my throat. NO~! NO~! Don't thrust it. I don't want to die. "I yield. I yield. I YIELD!" 

Galaxy help me~! I don't want to be her sex slave, nor do I want to give her my breasts. Perhaps I shouldn't have yielded and let myself be killed quickly and suddenly while I was still stunned. Now if I chose to be dispatched, I'll know it's coming. How can I choose that? 

I need time to think; I'm taking off my armor and putting it a pile; I can't find my cudgel. She must have kicked it away when it was knocked out of my hand. I've found the snap links in my kit and have snapped my right wrist to my right ankle and snapped the other one on my left wrist. She is snapping my left wrist to my left ankle, and I won't be able to walk away. 

Crap~! She's squeezing and twisting my boobs to get my nipples erect; damn the Universe, she's going to plant her pennants directly into my nipples. It really hurts now, but I can imagine what it will feel like when the barbs are pulled out. 

She has signaled her supply wagon medic to spray my wounds with an antiseptic. I hadn't realized I had a few open slashes. She's spraying her own wounds to stop the bleeding. Where's she going now? Oh, she must have won another fight and is going back to collect a scarf or someone's nipples. I'll have time to think about making a final decision as to what I should opt for. 

Drat~! I had visions of having her suck me out, and now it appears that I will be the one sucking pussy. I wonder if she will have me suck her sweaty, dirty pussy or at least have the decency to wash before I have to eat her out. Curses~! I know what I would have done. Yuck~!

I hadn't realized how uncomfortable it would be lying on one's back, wrists fastened to ankles and having one's ass and crotch open for the entire world to enjoy. I can see the camera blimp overhead taping my exposed crotch and me. I suppose women all over are watching the camera feeds and enjoying my plight.

Why oh why did I get so careless and allow this to happen to me-- to ME?

I have to pee, but if I do, I don't know where it will go while I'm in this position. When I try to roll over on my side, the drover/medic warns me that she will use her whip on me if I don't stay on my back. I've told her I have to pee, and she said, "Go ahead. The stream may arch away from you, or it may come back over you and onto your face. Keep your mouth open when you do let go, or I'll use this whip on your pussy. I'm curious to see where your pee will go. Bon appetite." I've decided to hold it until my vanquisher comes back.

The drover says she's bored and wants me to suck her out. I warn her that I haven't decided to vow fealty yet, and too, the warrior might not like getting my tongue second hand. She is looking me over wondering what other mischief she can inflict on me. 

She has seen my bush and seems intrigued. She leaves and comes back with a pair of needle nose pliers and proceeds to pull out my pubic hair one at a time. It is excruciating, but I bite my lip from saying so. She might find something else to do to me that would hurt more and do more damage. Occasionally, she reaches up and flicks the pennants stuck in my nipples. That REALLY hurts. I have always liked having a bush, but now I wish I had shaved it before battle. Maybe not. She'd just find some other way to torture me. 

My vanquisher has returned and stopped the drover from pulling out any more pubic hairs. 

"Well?" She asks. "You've had time to think. You have the right to ask to be dispatched. Otherwise, you're my prisoner, my sex slave, or are you going to ask to have your breasts removed and go back home? I can slice them off with little effort, cauterize your wounds, and your own drover can take you home, free as a bird. What's your decision? I like the shape of your tits, so I'd prefer to take them, but it's your call. I'll abide by protocol."

I was speechless. I couldn't make up my mind. Having a choice was not having a choice to be as I was before I fell. I sputtered but couldn't bring myself to decide. 

"The battle is over, and I've collected a scarf and a pair of nipples, so I want to get back to camp as soon as possible. The drover is waiting and the overhead blimp cams are recording. Decide. NOW."

The drover came over and whispered in her ear. My vanquisher placed the butt end of her cudgel into my vagina. She said, "I'm going to pummel your uterus until you decide. Eventually, it will be out of your hands, as you will bleed to death in a great deal of pain. She pushed the cudgel up against my cervix and pressed hard. I winced with the pain, but knew I had to opt before she began to ram the cudgel into my womb. "I yield again. I'll swear fealty to you." I made the pledge as I learned in military school: "I agree to be your slave and will accept whatever you have me do and do to me. I will do so without hesitation, complaint and with great enthusiasm. Otherwise, I expect to be punished or sold."

She told me to put my tongue inside her to show that I was now her property. I did so; gratefully acknowledging that she hadn't asked me to suck out her sweaty pussy. The drover asked if she could have me lick her, but my owner said no. The drover complained bitterly that not being able to capture a woman of her own wasn't fair. My owner told her to be grateful that she didn't have to die in battle or be taken prisoner herself.

The snap rings were removed, and I was able to stand and walk. My owner told me her name was Kit'n, but I must call her 'Miss' from now on. She told me to forget my own name, as I would henceforth be addressed as 'bitch'. I would be allowed no possessions, not even my name, except for the wrist, ankle and waistbands that I already wore. 




The Warrior's Story



Miss asked me if I'd march back to her camp without causing any trouble; otherwise, she'd have the drover put fishhooks into my breasts with the line tied to the wagon. I agreed that I'd behave and fishhooks would not be necessary. The drover made a face as if to say she'd prefer otherwise. The trip back was difficult, as I was walking barefoot and the ground was rough. 

After a few miles, my breasts were on fire. The barbs in my nipples hurt at each step when my breasts would bounce causing the pennants to bounce. Also, I was limping and stopping occasionally to brush small pebbles from my feet. I swore I wouldn't complain. I won't complain. I will NOT complain. 

I'm a warrior, and warriors don't complain. Further, I can't complain because of my oath of fealty; however, I berated myself for not choosing death. Now, even suicide is not an option for me. I had given my word, and my word is more important to me than my life. I have nothing more to look forward to for the rest of my life except sexual servitude. I'll be providing sexual stimulation and release for Miss and to whomever she lends me; however, I'll never have anyone love me or give me sexual pleasure or release. 

Miss must have seen me limping and motioned for me to come with her. She led me to the wagon transporting the warriors who had been killed in the battle. She told me to board the wagon and ride back to the camp. I swung aboard while the wagon was still moving and sat on the sideboard. I could hardly believe that my captor would be so benevolent. I would have let her suffer if I had taken her prisoner. 

I cleaned my feet as best I could with my hands. Then, I looked at the boots of the deceased and had an idea. I found a pair my size, took them off of the woman who would never need them again and pulled them on my own feet. A good fit. I jumped off the wagon and began walking again. Miss motioned for me again and told me to get aboard the supply/medical wagon. She followed me aboard and got the needle nose pliers that the drover had been using to pluck out my pubic hair. I was prepared for Miss to do the same, and I spread my legs and raised up my pussy to make it easier for her to reach my bush, or what was left of it. 

She pushed me back and took hold of my right breast and squeezed. I prepared myself for whatever she was going to do to me -- without complaint. I swore to myself that when she tortured my breasts with the pliers that I wouldn't scream or beg. I'm a warrior and warriors don't beg for mercy. She grabbed the pennant barbed into my nipple, told me to hold my breath, and yanked the pennant out. Excruciating, but I was glad it was out. Miss sprayed my nipple with a soothing antiseptic and the pain stopped. It was such a relief that I started to cry -- softly, but tears ran down my cheeks. I have never cried in my life before, not even as a child, and certainly not from pain from battle wounds. I'm crying because this is the first time anyone has ever been nice to me.

Miss took the pennant out of my left breast in the same way. I wanted to throw my arms around her and kiss her, but that wouldn't have been permitted. I know I'm not supposed to touch my mistress unless she tells me to do so. We've all had training as to how to act when a prisoner of war. I thanked Miss heartily. I would have gladly eaten her out right then and there no matter how dirty and sweaty her pussy was. I think I'll love her. (Stockholm syndrome? Jan) 

Miss dropped out of the wagon and began marching beside the rest of her troop. I followed suit and marched beside her albeit two steps behind. She looked back at me and smiled. I smiled back and knew I was in love with her. I had been concerned about how in my mind; I would change from being a free warrior to being another woman's sex slave. I'm no longer concerned. At this point, I would give my life to protect Kit'n. I may have to call her Miss out loud, but in my mind she's Kit'n. I certainly AM in love with her. I'll have no problem at all being her sex slave. Odd~! I've never felt love before. I had lust for my tent-mate and a few other comrades although I never approached them. My tent-mate would have thrown me out if I had not been true to her. But lust is not love.

Strange that my mistress was such a fierce fighter and rough when she took me to be her sex slave, and now, when she could be as cruel to me as I would have been to her, she treats me well, with respect and kindness. For some reason, that does bring tears to my eyes. Stop it Kai'la; this is not the time to grow soft. You don't know how you'll be treated once we're in her camp.

I doubt if my former comrades would have been as concerned about me as Kit'n is. They would probably have found my plight humorous and laughed at my pain and discomfort. I intend to be the best-damned sex slave Kit'n could imagine. No one else in my entire twenty-two years has ever been so compassionate towards me.

I have several concerns -- and dreads. How will her comrades treat me when she lets them use me? Will she use me as her piss-pot as I would have used her? Will she make me lie on my back while she pees in my mouth? I have a difficult time swallowing while I'm on my back. When my tent-mate Tan'e sat on my face and came in my mouth, I'd gag trying to swallow her female fluids. Worse when she'd squirt her joy juice in my mouth when she had a G-spot orgasm. She wasn't concerned when I gagged and sputtered trying to swallow it as she squirted. In fact, she'd be annoyed that I couldn't swallow fast enough. Maybe I could explain to Kit'n, and she'd permit me to drink her pee while she was on her back, or when I was on my knees with her pussy in my mouth. I've never had to drink pee before. Hopefully, Kit'n's doesn't taste awful.

Oh my holy novae~! What if she wants me to tongue fuck her anus? I'd have had her do that to me, but I would hate to have to do that myself. Of course, I'd have no choice if that's what she likes and tells me to do.

I imagine she'll whip me for slight infractions. Hopefully, she won't whip my breasts until my nipples heal.

What's the worst that she can do to me or order me to do? What would I have done to her if I had taken her prisoner? Licking her pussy? I enjoy licking pussy, but what if she has me licking her when she menstruates? I would have had her do that for me. Well, a warrior has to drink blood anyway. What difference is it to drink animal blood or human blood? 

I would have had her amuse me by having my dogs mount her, so I guess I can expect the same.

I would have had her keep my pussy licked clean all the time, so I wouldn't have even bothered to wash. I've always hated the harsh soap I've had to use to wash my genitals. I wouldn't have had to if she had kept me licked clean. I assume I'll have to do that for her. 

I would have humiliated Kit'n in so many ways. I can handle pain, as I'm a warrior; however, I won't do so well with humiliation -- as I'm a warrior. I should have let her finish me when I was still stunned.

When the suns go down and the temperature, as usual, drops thirty degrees, I'll have to sleep naked on the frozen ground without furs or thermal blankets. Maybe I'll die of hypothermia. Then my concerns won't matter.

The suns are low on the horizon, and I am already feeling the grip of the lower temperature. My captors are wearing their furs, but I know I'll not be awarded any. Mine are back in the supply wagon heading back to my old encampment. Any spares here are used to cover the wounded. 

I've heard that freezing to death is not a painful way to go. Maybe I'll ask Kit'n if I could sleep in the funereal wagon to be above ground when the suns set. I'd have to sleep on top of the corpses, which would not be giving off heat, but it would still be better than the frozen ground. I can't stop shivering; it's getting really painful and hard to walk.

They're calling a halt to the train. They must be preparing to stop marching for the night. Kit'n, mmm, Miss, is beckoning for me to follow her to a supply wagon. She will be picking up a thermal sleeping bag and will want me to carry it back to where she plans to sleep. I hear her tell the drover, "No, not that one. The one in the other pile." She hands it to me and tells me to carry it over next to the tree yonder. There are already troops laying out their bedding in rows.

As I start to do as ordered, I see Kit'n walk to the funereal wagon where several of her comrades are shackling two other of my fellow captives aboard the wagon. She is arguing with them. Odd, they are removing the snap clips from the prisoners' wrists to ankles and allowing them to walk back to the campsite.

She is following her comrades and seems to be berating them.

While I'm laying out the sleeping bag, another warrior approaches and tells me she is Kit'n's tent mate, K'leete. She will be sleeping in the bag with Kit'n. I suppose I'll be sleeping on the frozen ground next to them, and maybe I can rest against their sleeping bag and keep part of me warmer. 

When Kit'n returns, she hugs and kisses K'leete and thanks the Old Novae in the sky for K'leete's battle survival. After K'leete climbs into the thermal sleeping bag, Kit'n holds it open and looks at me. I have no idea what she wants of me. Oh, I suppose she wants me to hold it open while she climbs in. I try to take the corner to hold it, but she slaps my hand away. I'd ask her what she wants me to do, but she hasn't given me permission to speak to her. I'm perplexed, but I better figure out what is expected of me before she punishes me. 

Oh my Holy Novae, Kit'n is pointing into the bag and nodding at me. Could she possible be expecting me to climb in? I must appear bewildered as she is nodding and pointing into the bag next to K'leete who now is patting the space next to her. I'm in shock, but I tentatively step into the bag and Kit'n smiles and nods. 

Am I already frozen to death and dreaming my death life? As I climb in, K'leete guides me to spoon with her. She reaches around me and squeezes my breasts. I must be dreaming my death life. When Kit'n slides in, she backs her bottom against my belly and wiggles tight against me. I AM dreaming my death life. Within minutes, I am warm and comfortable and, Lord Novae, I'm turned on by the warm female flesh that sandwiches me. Is my death life dream going to continue, or will I wake to find myself sleeping on the frozen ground, freezing? 

After a few minutes, I realize that I'm still alive and that I'm not dreaming my death life. I begin crying again. Why do I do that? Warriors don't cry. I would march into hell beside these women and gladly give my life for them. 

The warm, physical contact makes my body relax after a difficult, stressful day of combat and despair. I begin to doze, but my last thoughts before sleep are that somehow, as I'm in love with Kit'n. I must protect her at all costs in future battles. If she dies, I die. Then too, I'd be passed around by her unit comrades -- possibly by the entire company, and they wouldn't be as benevolent as my Kit'n. But what if she marches into combat against my former comrades? I'd have to choose between them and her.

=========

Endnote:

Readers: I ended the Warrior's Story here and would leave the rest up to your fertile imaginations. Remember, the warrior's thoughts are just that -- thoughts - and the things she thinks about like death and bestiality are not actually happening. 

I hadn't intended on continuing the Warrior's story as it is just part of the original story I am still working on; however, if I get enough requests, I'll write more about the Warrior in a future chapter. As I've mentioned, this chapter was written as a basis for a sexual fantasy of a man called Arthur. In any case, I will go on to write about his fantasy in his story. -- Jan