0 comments/ 14593 views/ 2 favorites Bitter Sweet Bitter Meat Ch. 01 By: DireLilith She was shorter by merely a fraction than the other Drow that was wandering around her in ever tightening circles. And the other was better equipped just now. She herself wore only her hardened leather coverings, while the one circling her was in almost full battle regalia, given her preference for magick casting. Nonetheless, she kept her ground, eyes facing forward as she had long learned to do while under questioning. "And what is it you seek, my little warrior?" the circling girl spoke softly. Though her voice could easily have sent shivers up the warrior's spine, she did her best not to move a muscle and give no credence to what the closing proximity of the other was doing to her senses. As the mage circled her, moving now behind her back and stopping there, hesitating while waiting for an answer, the warrior could smell her scent -- incense, and a wild natural musk. The kind one expected from a passionate fighter such as this one must be. She looked not down, not up, but only straight ahead. She ignored the soft wafting of that heavenly natural perfume up through her nostrils, forcing them not to flare and give away her true intent. "I only want what I know you have given freely to others less worthy as myself," she answered calmly. She tried to project her previous confidence, trying to recapture the slyness she had felt when the mage had first entered the weapons shop. But looking upon her godly form, seeing in this one Drow all she had ever known of the Underdark and its temples and priestesses; the tight and busty black corset fitting over the curved hips and bottom, gracing the slender waist until it rose up to the full, round breasts, effectively mashing them together, pushing them up and out of the material. It made her ache for her homelands and the darkness of the caverns. She missed the starless sky above, and the glow of magick all about her. How she missed it, looking to see where the mage's deep colored nipples almost showed over the edge of the corset's bodice. As her eyes took in the expanse of blue skinned thigh showing above the tall battle boots, the warrior could think of nothing but the unique worship she had been entitled to as a great fighter in her House, in the days of old. "What is it, girl? Can you not ask? Can you not say?" The mage moved her face closer to the warrior's neck, her ungloved fingers gently pulling her white hair away from her tingling and anticipating neck-flesh. "Why don't you just take what you want?" The whisper was deadly, dangerous. And there was no way the warrior could mistake the intention of the mage. It was a test, all of it a test. She put her fists at her sides, making sure her movements were slow, steady, un-provoking. She kept her pale blue eyes forward towards the weapons shop door, focusing as best she could. "It is against my culture, my beliefs, and the Will of my Goddess, to bring harm or to allow harm to come to any female of my race. It is not something I could do, nor force upon someone else. "I must be given permission." She tried not to gulp, tried not to sound weak. But she failed, her throat was suddenly so dry. Behind her, the mage made not a sound, moved not a hair. "You are quite serious, aren't you," she said at last. The warrior nodded, immobile. Now she heard the mage swallow loudly behind her. "Out of all my time here, none have treated me with the deference you give me so easily, without even knowing me. None here of our breed remember the traditions or observe the beliefs. I am...caught off-guard." The warrior had expected as much. But she did not move to comfort her better, the mage. She did not turn to smile welcomingly into those blood red eyes, to lay a hand on that bare shoulder beneath the dark cloak. She remained steadfast. Silence enveloped the weapons shop's common room for several long moments. Though she wanted to turn around, she did not allow herself that pleasure. She stayed still, reverently respecting the mage's need for time. At last, the mage moved close again. She put a hand on each of the warrior Drow's arms, and slowly turned her around. With steady gaze, the mage looked directly into the warrior's face. "What is it you seek?" "I seek permission." "For what?" "To enjoy what it is I desire most, if only for a span of time shorter than a day. Less even." Another moment of silence passed, but their eyes spoke so much more than any words in any language could have said. The mage raised a hand, fingers outspread, and nodded to the warrior. "You have this much time..." It was all she would need. Ruthless suddenly, the strong Drow picked up the mage, placing her bottom on the countertop and standing back slightly to look at her. The magick caster looked as beautiful as a decoration, sitting on the counter, her bottom lip almost trembling, her purest white hair cascading down around her shoulders and sides. No, she thought, letting her libido rise in temperature and strength as she eyed what she had momentarily been granted. Not a decoration, but an idol. An idol placed on the holiest of altars. She leaned forward, her hands on the other girl's shoulders, her mouth against the dark and pointed ear. "Please," she pleaded softly. "Let me worship and pray." The mage nodded as if in a trance, and did nothing to object when the warrior moved her hands to those bare, ebon-skinned thighs. The warrior parted those thighs slowly, looking down upon them as if they were a portal, doors to a darkness she had not visited in some time. It was a sin to not come to worship, to pray, to sacrifice. Her fingers went easily upwards, to the crotch of the one piece leather and mail corset, and she began to undo the latches there. As her fingers moved deftly over the armor, the mage gasped. At last, the treasure was exposed, and the warrior took her turn at breathing in sharply. Beneath her fingers now, there lay a white furred mons and sweetly swollen lips. The mage's privacy was exposed for anyone who entered to see. But neither Drow cared. The warrior could not resist the temptation. And she knew she did not need to, anymore. Time was against her, and her intentions must be made clear. Here, in this makeshift temple, she would worship as she always had, since being made a woman so long ago. She got down on her knees, crouching between those legs that dangled off that dirty counter, ignoring the slight grit beneath her knee caps as she eyed disbelieving that impossibly precious privacy. Without further ado, she began to pry it open. She moved her fingers carefully, seductively. This was not so much a portal any longer as it was a flower. And it had to be stroked, teased, seduced into opening. As her fingers petted and caressed the large swollen labia, the scent of the heavens wafted forward over her face. The two lips began to slip beneath her fingertips, and she knew they were slick with lust and wet with desire. The warrior dared to move her face forward. As she did, the mage put her hands into the warrior's unbound hair, obviously wanting to pull her closer, and quickly -- but refusing to ruin the beautiful moment that was now evolving. The other Drow produced her tongue, a worshipper's tool, and fully parted those lips with the wetted tip. She slowly let it intrude into the crevice, seeking and finding the warmth she knew would be there. Upwards her tongue slipped, slow and careful, until the budding hardness of the clitoris was beneath her slithering probing mouth. She suckled, slightly, ever so slightly. And the mage trembled, gently trembled. Closer the warrior brought her face, pushing it into the wondrously luscious puss, feeling her chin becoming wet with the juices to be had there. Then her hand began its lengthy and detailed process of cleansing. Upwards to the top of the clit hood it ran, then downwards. Over the inner labia, now almost stiff in their excitement, past the darkness and shadows of the slitted entryway, downwards almost to the final exit of all things. Then, it traveled up again, repeating the prayers of so many, faithful and unfaithful alike. For ever so long, she continued her petitioning, flicking occasionally over that clitoris, nipping boldly at the slender tinier lips. And sometimes, she would dip into that entryway, thrust into the sweet center. A sound behind her let her know that someone had entered the shop. By his sounds, it was someone who worked here, a man larger than herself with a steady tread. He walked past the two Drow at the counter without a word and disappeared into the back of the shop and out of their memories. Again she thrust into the center, but this time, she pushed onwards. This, of all things, was the final test of the true parishioner, the most dedicated pilgrim. As the mage's hands entangled in her hair tightly, as she began to writhe and moan on the counter's surface, the warrior continued, pursuing her passion down that short hallway. Deeper she pushed, refuting the desire to join a finger to her tongue's progress. This process was almost holy in design, surely holy in intent. And there could be no deviation. This was the true purpose of the praying and petitioning. This, here, was the ultimate sacrifice. As her tongue danced and twisted within the tight canal, the mage's hands pulled and pushed at the warrior's head. She rocked against the face in her lap, and then began to cum. And that was the ultimate offering -- the sacrifice of one's own pleasure in order to bestow such upon another, especially one deserving and worthy. The warrior drank. She did not cease drinking until there was not a drop left to lap up with her tongue or to tease with her fingertips. At last, she pulled away. With a careful hand, she redid the latches on the crotch of the armor. Then, she took the mage by one hand, helping her to stand up steady and strong. She held that hand thus, aloft, waiting for the caster to cease her trembling. More like holding it until her own body stopped reeling, and her own mind became focused. Finally, they were both calm and poised, Drow once more and no longer goddess and worshipping peon. The warrior stared for a brief moment into the mage's eyes, looking from one red and lust filled orb to the other. Then she pulled her gaze away, smiling forcibly. "Take back the permission you have granted me, before I go too far." "Consider it revoked...for now." With that, the mage smiled secretly, lifted the hood of her cloak back up over her head, and left the weapons shop. The warrior watched her go, moving to the shop's window to peer after her. Then she turned. The man stood there, wiping his hands on a rag, grinning. He moved over to the counter the mage had been resting on, dipping his fingers into a wet sheen on the counter's surface. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll be sure to clean up..." Bitter Sweet Bitter Meat Ch. 02 The water was warm and inviting, making her dark skinned breasts bob on its surface as she adjusted herself. It had seemed natural to invite the green eyed half elf into the tub with her when he asked. After all, she did work with him. It was best they got along, almost intimately even. And he was attractive, there was no denying that. But after this afternoon's prayer session with the lovely lady mage, a Drow yet, right on the counter of the weapons shop...there was little that would beat the pleasure she still retained. The taste of the girl on her lips, the feel of her soft privacy on her fingertips. These would be hard memories to erase. The half elf across from her grinned, mistaking her trance-like gaze for interest. He moved over to her side of the tub, smiling and slipping his arm around the back of her shoulders. "You look very tense," he said suggestively. She didn't answer him. He stretched and yawned, cracking his neck bones. "I know I could sure use a massage or a back rub, myself." The half elf turned to her, smiling at her intently. Carefully, the Drow warrior turned her eyes towards him. She took in his reddish-brown hair, now loose from his pony-tail. And she smiled. "There are serving wenches out there," she said, motioning to the inn through the door of the bathing rooms. "One of them will gladly indulge your need for a few coin, or even upon command." She blinked at him, making the mistake of still smiling. It was all the error she needed to make. The half elf moved infront of her. He was naked as was she, and the water sloshed around his thighs as he moved to straddle her legs. He lifted himself up slightly, and she could see his heavy, engorged member poking through the surface of the water. He was very excited. "Maybe I could give you a backrub, then, hmm?" he suggested. She raised an eyebrow slowly, letting it arch in disdain. "My sister allows me blanket privileges with her slave. I could have him cater to me at my whimsy, if I wished it." Again, she smiled. She meant it contemptuously, but he took it otherwise. "Could you get your...member...out of my face?" "If it was in your face," he said, suddenly sneering, "it'd be up like this." With that, the half man thrust his cock towards her lips. She barely missed being stabbed, in the mouth coincidentally, as she turned her head to one side. Then, she glared up into his piercing and hungry gaze. "Get that thing out of my face before I severe it from your groin permanently," she growled softly. The half elf obliged, almost looking wounded and hurt. He rested against the tub's edge for a moment, then looked at her. His face was honest. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I couldn't help myself. The vast scope of your beauty is only now made evident to me. I should not try to force you into things you have no desire to partake in. "Do you accept my apology?" Of course he had fallen under the impossible spell of her charms, she thought arrogantly. Of course he could not resist her, thinking she too must find him irresistible. So, of course she accepted his apology. She did not expect it to be followed by a kiss. His lips were sweet at first. And she let her own be pliant against his, mouthing his mouth then tonguing his tongue. The half elf's strong hands went to her hips, and he carefully guided her over him, onto his pale naked thighs. They were strong thighs, and she almost shivered feeling him beneath her. But for his presumptuous nature, this might have been enjoyable. His mouth stayed against her own, but it was no longer supple and soft. It was a hungry mouth, a desperate mouth, an out of control mouth. His hands were mirroring that mouth, as well, spreading her thighs now as he slid her over him, rubbing over her ass wildly. His fingers were out of control. He moaned against her lips, feeling the head of his cock pressing against her privacy, her warmed puss where it sat on his lower belly. He wanted her, and wanted her badly. She didn't need to be a woman of experience to know this. But, there was that thought tickling in the back of her skull. How he had eyed her when the mage Drow had departed the weapons shop. How he had cleaned the lust-covered counter with his fingers, then his fingers with his tongue, watching her all the while. And how he had slipped a note, asking her company later, into her belt while she had been in the midst of a large sale. This man did not know her, or of her. And he did not care to. He knew only what he had seen her doing with another. As all men, it had excited him. Now he wanted some of what she had given to someone else, for himself. Part of her suggested she walk out now, scolded her for ever thinking she should let him share her tub tonight. That part of her questioned why she had bothered to smile, to say anything nice to someone she had no intention of taking to bed. But he had smiled too, and he had been flattering with his attention. The more silly side of her, the one she attributed to a human foster father, felt almost obligated to indulge the half elf and give him what he so seemed to desire. Yet... That wasn't who she was, now. As he moved his cock lower with his hands, raising her up by her hips in the water, as he began to push his way inside her, she thought upon her life and her present state of mind. Once she had been great among her kind, fighting the wars of her people with relish and fervor. And she had loved the bodies of men and women alike since she had first learned to hold a blade. She had just as early learned how to hold a heart. She had dallied with lust and with love as soon as she learned that Drow combined lust, greed and wanting into one word, one concept. That had appealed to a young Drow like herself, feeling wild and free like the Queen of all the Realms. Now, she was more cautious. No one held her heart, and her hands did not ache to hold another's. She did not play where she was not sure she would enjoy it, and she did not dally where she did not intend to play. Excluding her current position, it would seem. The Drow looked down now at the half elf man squirming between her thighs. He wanted her participation, but seemed willing to please himself without her help, if that was what it took. He merely wanted the idea of her, the concept of his cock buried within her loins. Whether or not she spoke or participated, he seemed not to care. So be it, she told herself, sudden anger rising within her chest and burning in her stomach. If he wants me, then he gets ME, and not some party favor or bar wench. The Drow girl began to rock her hips. "Ah, see? You like it," the half elf said, purring as he grinned up at her. She put her arms on either side of his head now, pushing her round breasts into his face. It only made him grin more, but for now, she was willing to tease him. Then she put her hands on his shoulders, holding him still with her undeniable strength. It didn't occur to him to fight her as her hips began to rock faster over his groin, forcing his thick cock deeper inside. As her fingernails dug into his shoulder flesh, it didn't occur to him that he should worry. So she continued, letting her own fires spill up through her chest from her loins and hips. Her rocking began to move even the half elf now, and he looked at her with consternation. Determined to enjoy himself, he moved his hands to her breasts and squeezed them hard, lifting his ass from the bottom of the tub as he thrust into her, trying to match her speeding rhythms. The Drow swatted his hands away, then took his wrists in her fingers, pinning them behind his head. She lowered her mouth to his neck and bit him, hard. She could almost feel her teeth breaking through his skin, and the thought of his blood gushing into her mouth pleased her greatly. She began to bite him harder, and at last, he squealed. "Hey! If you're into rape, I don't mind, but at least let me move so I can get off, too!" "Silence, half man!" she snarled, then continued to bite at him. Something in her tone, dangerous and foreboding, seemed to strike him at last. And he didn't struggle again. The dark elf moved her blue fleshed torso forward and back, her slender hips grinding harder and harder over the cock within her. The half elf groaned, a sound that was more a whimper than anything. She released his neck and arched her back, her breasts thrust almost to the ceiling as she came, at last. Her puss tightened around his shaft, stroking him tenderly. Then she rose, moved through the waters of the tub, and climbed out over an edge. The half elf squealed. "What the -- what about me??" She sat on a bench, panting lightly, eyes half slits as she stared at a distant wall. He got out of the tub, glaring at her. "You little bitch!" The word made her grin and she turned to him at last. "Why? Didn't you have fun? Didn't I let you touch me and paw my body?" "But you -- but I -!" She just grinned and got back into the tub he had vacated, splashing water over her sweating chest, and between her legs. "What? Men do the same here all the time. Why is it such a surprise to you for a woman to enjoy herself without sharing the satisfaction completely and equally?" "You ..you slut!" She raised an eyebrow, not liking his tone. "It's not supposed to be like that! You -- you used me!" That made her smile again, and she sat smirking at him from the tub's edge. "You were about to do it to me. You didn't care at all if I was enjoying myself, as long as I was willing to let you use my body." "But that's different!" he cried. "Why?" She lifted her feet over the edge, dangling them over the floor of the bathing room. "Why is it different? Why is it so inconceivable that a woman has the same rights sexually as a man? Why does it baffle you that I wanted to enjoy myself with your body, and nothing more than that?" He snarled at her, the look on his slightly scarred face making him look mean, and no longer pretty. And it caused her anger to grow. "No!" he said. "No, you aren't supposed to do that! It's supposed to be equal!" "But you didn't care if I was enjoying myself or not, as long as I let you kiss me and touch me, and didn't object with threats of your death!!" His eyes were burning green now. He growled low, and she could almost feel the electricity of his anger. It made her skin prickly, tingly. Slowly, she realized he was moving his hands. Before she could react, he had her weapons belt in his grasp. The Drow did not move, but her smile disappeared, and her anger became a controlled thing. She was prepared now to become lethal in an instant. That belt was her livelihood. He eyed her, the tense way she was sitting on the edge now, her body like a coiled spring, yet still smooth limbed. He would not be sure of her intentions. Not until it was too late. "I should steal this," he grunted, eyeing her up and down. But he replaced the belt, nonetheless. She did not relax. With a swift kick, he shot out with his foot and lifted her clothing up over his toes, tossing them into the nearest tub of water. That seemed to be the worst he would do, she decided. She rose from where she was seated, and walked over to the tub in which her leathers now floated. She picked them out, shaking them dry, unable to wring their stiff material out of all water. "I can't believe I fell for this!" the half elf screamed in outrage, shaking in his anger. "All I ever find are sluts and self-serving women! I can't decide which you are!" As she walked past him and through the door into the inn, she did not pause. Under her breath, she whispered as she moved infront of him then continued by. "You can assume from this point on, you'll never have to wonder about me again." And she walked out into the inn, then into the night, dripping water as she moved. Calm. Cool. And full of hatred and bile.