0 comments/ 16590 views/ 0 favorites Hegemony: Beginnings By: Serendipity_Engine It was the end of history. "Horsemaster, 3d grade, under the command of thirteenth Field General and High Lord Uppura Demoska - I am Selio Sagio Permidin. It is the 4th year of Lord Demoska's crusade against the barbarian tribes of Bhaotar, and the 570th year of the One Empire Under the Stars." Selio said the words, but could write none of them. He thought it important to record the end of the Empire, but of what use was it to record the end of history? Who would read these words, in the dark years to come? More than likely, the pages would disappear into some savage's flames to warm him through a cold night, and Selio himself would be dead. He could still see Demoska's body from where he sat, hanging obscenely from a pole, where the man had been left to the vultures and crows by the tribal warriors - it was the fate they allotted to powerful and honorable foes, though Demoska had not seen them in such a light. "By the gods it is cold!" Selio's sudden proclamation shocked himself out of his reverie, there was no living person around for some distance, and so there were none to see him slowly going mad. He might be the only survivor of the entirety of Demoska's army. He would have to note in his writings that it had not been Demoska's fault. Many would assume that - assume that a fool lordling had led his army astray, and been the main cause of their massacre. The truth was much more frightening. The Bhaotar had been better. Better motivated, better organized, and much more ruthless than the Imperial legions. Once, the men who had been trained in the Black Cloister had been feared throughout the lands of Men. In Tya and Mezzo and the Infinite City, the soldiers trained in the Cloister and blooded on the green fields of the War Goddess were whispered of in terror. Had been feared. That, even a lowly 3d grade Horsemaster such as Selio knew to be false, and had been for some time. Now men like Selio were the Empire's heroes, and men like Demoska its generals. A poor choice, Selio knew himself to be a coward, and Demoska was trained to lead, but not born to lead. Times such as these called for exceptional men, and only average and less than average men were to be found. Returning the dead sage's writing materials into the sack Selio had acquired from Demoska's body, he lifted his helmet, it's smooth, glistening surface a wonder to look upon even with grime and blood staining it, and mounted his horse. It was time to seek greener pastures, surely the Bhaotar had enemies, other tribes that would honor a man who could share the skills, if not the fabled resolve, of the Black Cloister with them. *** It was raining. Selio Sagio Sajjhio of the Permidin, twelfth to bear the name of the first of the Horse Lords, hated the rain. It had a tendency to seep through his armor and moisten the most uncomfortable of places, leaving him wet, stinking, and profoundly uncomfortable in the saddle for hours after the rain had ceased. Especially when out on a long ride, and this had most definitely been a long ride. The petty prince of the Immo villages had begun harassing some of the farthest outlying Permidin vassals for taxes - claiming that they were within his sphere of influence, and therefore subject to his will. His head mounted on a spike had convinced his sons that this was not the case - but Selio XII had retained several of their sisters as hostages should they ever think to reconsider... "M'lord! M'lord!" Selio XII turned towards the source of the cries in time to see one of his outriders riding his horse hard down the slope of a hill ahead of the main column of Selio's troops. The man was clearly shaken and flushed, his horse lathered from a sustained run. What had the man so agitated? Selio was intrigued and worried, they were deep in Permidin territories now - the possibility of trouble here had wider implications than a simple fight. The Horse Lords had long guaranteed their peoples safety in return for their fealty and taxes, and failure to provide that safety had led to the overthrow of lords and the shaking of the entire labyrinthine structure of oaths of fealty and vassalage that formed the Kingdom of Dumart in the past. The outrider closed quickly, and as he slowed in front of his lord, he executed a brief bow from his saddle, and when he looked up, Selio XII simply inclined his head - indicating that the man should dispense with formalities and speak plainly. "M'lord. I came across a party of slain travelers, and sought to investigate. They were Tuzarene it seemed, m'lord, but bearing symbols of Authority. All had been slain by some unknown menace, but for one, an old hag who yet breathed, but that I did not dare attempt to wake." The man spoke quickly and breathlessly, in a hurry to communicate what he had seen. Selio XII sat stiffly, stunned into silence by the man's report. It took several moments for him to reply, and his inner circle of warriors began to look upon him with worry painting their features. "Symbols of Authority? How is it that you know this? And why do you say Tuzarene? We have not seen a single Tuzarene trader this side of the Bahanis Gate in thirteen years, let alone a party of them wandering deeply in our territory without any warning." The outrider licked his lips nervously before replying. "My father was a servant of the sage Jora who served your honored father, Selio the Eleventh. Jora taught my father the basics of the symbol histories to honor him for his service, and he passed the knowledge on to his children m'lord. I would not mistake those symbols for any other. As for Tuzarene, that was but a presumption of mine lord...their dress is alien to me, and they have the coloring of Tuzarene, so I assumed..." Selio cut him off. "Assume nothing. Tuzarene who bear such symbols would not be blindly wondering my territories. They would have come straight to me, or gone to the King at Castle Dumart. Lead on man, and let us see this strange sight you speak of properly." The outrider obliged immediately, and following his lead, the head of the column broke away around Selio while the rest waited for their return. What they found was beyond the outrider's possible comprehension. An Imperial party, fully bedecked in the armor and sigils of the One Empire Under the Stars - but bearing the ancient symbols of Authority upon their banners, rather than any recorded heraldry of the Empire. The nature of response that arose from each member of Selio's party bespoke how much each man understood of what he beheld. Those most ignorant gasped only softly at the sight of a party of well armed and armored warriors lying dead of no apparent cause in an empty meadow. Those better versed in the histories recognized the garb of the Empire and muttered soft curses...and finally, Selio and his warrior-sage companion, Bledor, took only deep breaths as they recognized the symbols that marked the banner that the party had carried...now lying in the field, partly muddied. Selio ordered the outrider back, and he and Bledor and three others of his party rode forward to where the party lay, before slipping from their saddles onto their own feet to move amongst the bodies. And bodies they were indeed, all men, and all cold and dead, without breath in their lungs and blood in their faces. Not long dead, there was a stiffness to them, but no stench yet. Though the outrider had been right to think them Tuzarene from their skin, they were indeed dark - their flesh a shade of rich darkened brown, their hair long and straight and black as pitch - but the Tuzarene had never served the Empire, and indeed, had come to trouble the Kingdom long after the Empire had faded into myth and legend. Then Selio saw the woman. 'Hag' had been a gentle term, this was a fat old sow, greyed and wrinkled beyond belief, her body sheathed in black rags from head to toe. And something odder - she was not like the men, her flesh was pale, like that of the Bhaotar or the Immo or any of the other peoples bound together under the Kingdom's banners. Curiouser and curiouser, Selio was intrigued, especially since she yet breathed, while all the others lay dead. He reached down to search her while she lay helpless, but the moment he touched her robes, her eyes opened, wild and mad, and her bony hands grasped his with a strength he had not expected from one so old...or even a woman of any age at that. Her voice, when she spoke, was like gravel. "Who dares lay hands upon me? Foul ruffian! I am not some peasant woman for you to rob at your whim!" Selio tried to pull back his hands, but her grip was strong enough that he would have to hurt her to break free, so he let her hold him...for the moment. "I am no foul ruffian, and you will address me properly, hag. I am the Warlord of the Permidin Horse Lords, Selio Sagio Sajjhio, twelfth to bear the name. I am a vassal of the King at Dumart, and you will answer my questions as to the how and why of your violation of my lands!" His tone was firm at the beginning, but grew rougher and louder as he continued to speak. She had, after all, called him a ruffian and implied that he was a thief. The old hag, quieted then, but retained a scowl upon her wrinkled features. Selio spoke again, taking advantage of her silence. "Release me, hag, lest I break your brittle hands." She released him, but then spoke quietly. "Selio...of the Permidin? Selio Sagio Permidin, Horsemaster, 3d grade, in the service of the High Lord Uppura Demoska?" She spoke the words flatly, clearly from having learned them by rote, rather than familiarity. Selio was stunned, and simply kneeled there, eyes wide. "Selio Sagio Permidin, the first, was a Horsemaster of the One Empire Under the Stars, whence it held sway over these lands, and he served an Imperial lord named Demoska in battle against the Bhaotar chieftan Fedharkeen. Who are you to speak of such things?" Her response shook him to his core, and managed only to confuse his companions. "By the Authority, by ancient oaths taken as pact of blood, I call you, of the Permidin line, into service again, as a child of the Hidden Guard, so you shall be Hidden Guard eternal. Life in service to the One Empire Under the Stars always and forever, unto all generations of descendants that bear your name and blood." Her fragile hands slipped into her ragged robes and produced a pair of smooth silver medallions. Sigils of Authority! The symbols could be copied, and had been time and again in the past by those lords and barbarian chieftans who knew of them to verify their claims to power... But sigils? Those were unique. Strange medallions from an earlier era that were rumored to be able to unlock any door and command the service of any man, and responded only to their rightful bearers. The Empire had never had any. Never! That much was clear in the most ancient of histories that the sages of the Kingdom maintained. Selio had no choice, and simply made the sign of submission to her commands. There were rules, naturally, and he knew that her wording of her summons specified that her power over him only extended as far as the generational pact of the Hidden Guard called for - and the wording of the pact itself had been a family secret handed down for generations, even the first Selio had supposedly had the wording handed down to him by his father - but there was no reason that she should know that he knew that her power over him was far from...absolute. "You shall take me to your home, or hovel, or wherever you reside that has the best beds and equipment. I shall reveal my further instructions there." Her voice was firm, and commanding - clearly she was comfortable with more than just screeching out orders. "What of your...fellows? Shall we just leave them here? It would serve my armories well to strip them of their equipment. I will be doing so unless you command me not to." Selio waited for her to respond, and she did so with a simple gesture indicating she was not bothered either way. A cold woman, to see men so easily stripped of dignity in death, especially ones that must have been in some way in her service. Selio proceeded to order his men to strip the bodies, and bring up a horse for Bledor, who had surrendered his own mount to the hag. This was going to be a very long ride home. And it was still raining...damn. *** The Horse Lords maintained a series of forts throughout their lands - and each was maintained by a scion of the Permidin line, but the family's current Warlord was expected to move between each, so that the no single place became the focus of power in the Permidin lands, and farther regions become neglected because of it. Selio suspected this was a direct result of the first Horse Lord's knowledge of how the Empire had lost touch with its far corners as it continued to centralize power at its distant capitol. Sages in the family's service since then had time and again intimated that the practice damaged trade in the region as there was no central hub for merchants to base their enterprises in - but Selio after Selio had ignored them, and the practice was now a firm tradition that no mere sage dared question. So it was, that Selio approached the Seafort, the citadel established by some second or third son of the family a few generations back, and watched over the only place where Permidin lands touched the sea. Hewn from a massive black rock that jutted from the land out over the sea, the fort and its adjoining town had grown well beyond the capacity of the initial fortifications, and a series of arcing walls separated the town into separate areas, with the innermost wall guarding the outer sections of the Seafort itself, built to house the growing army of servants and warriors that were housed there. Selio had always thought it a rather majestic site. His new mistress seemed unimpressed. The ride to the fort had proven to Selio that his service to this...hag was going to be quite the chore, and he waited for when his year and a day would be over. He already imagined when he would surprise her with his knowledge that he could not be called upon to serve her into eternity... *** A scented smoke filled the great hall, and most of the inhabitants were ensnared in its pleasant effects. A weed grew on the slopes of the hills near here, which the local lord - Devion of the Seor Permidin - had managed to cultivate into quite the industry. It was sad the King even paid handsomely for casks of the dried leaves of the weed. The smoke was released when the leaves of the weed were burnt, and befouled the mind and senses for any who breathed it for too long, Selio enjoyed the smoke on occasion, but the hag had ordered him to remain clear headed, and so he was. He would, at the least, not be called oathbreaker, but the woman did vex him so. She had occupied the apartments that were rightfully his, and he had been relegated to sharing a room with Beldor, rather than forcing Devion and his lady out of their bed as was his right. Beldor had been the one to note that the Sigils of Authority carried less weight with Devion and his people, since there was no sage serving the Seor Permidins - and to serve the woman was seen as a matter of peculiar honor by them, but to dislodge Devion because of her...was closer to being seen as a personal insult to the lord of the Seafort. Selios had relented, and slept on a straw mattress when he should have had better after such a long journey. So it was that Selios stood outside the great hall, alone, whilst his companions and distant cousins enjoyed the smoke inside. Indeed, Selios' mood grew fouler and fouler - and he suspected that some effect of the smoke was present even just outside the hall...as he could see wisps of grey wafting out from under the door. So he could not stay even here. His anger began to bubble over, frothing almost - and his self control was not what it should have been. He knew the smoke was affecting him, but that only made him angrier. This was the state in which he ascended the hewn rock stairs to the Warlord's chambers high in the central tower - angry and slightly disoriented. There was a guard at the door, as was traditional, and Selios merely ordered the man aside - and found the door unbarred. The hag was too sure of herself by far. Perhaps Selios was an oathbreaker? What hold did a pact sworn by an ancestor long dead when the first Horse Lord had arisen mean to one such as Selios Sagios Sajjhios the Twelfth? The large room was lit only by a few low burning candles, the windows shuttered against the moonlight and sea breezes. But Selio could see a series of misshapen lumps on the bed, covered by the thick blankets imported through the Hull Gate years ago, when last it had been open. This aggravated Selios further. Those were his blankets, his bed. Approaching the bed, Selios saw that only the hag's face was uncovered by the blankets - she slept as completely covered as she clothed herself when awake, and Selios feared what disgusting sight her body might be, that she covered it so. She seemed, smaller though, and her earlier massive bulk was not so evident from the mounding of the blankets around her body - perhaps her clothes had made her seem heavier than she truly was. Regardless, her face was still a wrinkled thing, so withered as to be almost inhuman - Selios doubted he had ever seen anyone so old. Suddenly curious, he leaned down to study the hag's face, the last time he had looked closely upon her was when he had found her with the dead Imperial party, before she claimed his temporary fealty through ancient oaths. At first, he was merely intrigued and slightly repulsed by the mass of wrinkled folds that her face was - like an ancient tree's bark, but soft pale flesh instead of dark tree bark. So curious was he, that he finally reached out, and touched her face with a fingertip, idly tapping a wrinkled ridge. It was then he noticed, that there was something not entirely right about the hag's face. It seemed as though her entire face was, sagging, ever so slightly down towards the bed as she slept on her side. Odd that... So in a spurt of drug-addled anger and curiosity, Selios firmly pinched one of the sagging folds of flesh, and pulled...and pulled? The flesh gave way, too easily, coming forward in response to Selios' tugs, and the hag responded not at all, as though she could not feel her own face. Then he saw it, a hint of dark brown flesh near her nose, just around the inner corner of her eye, separating the pink flesh where her tears would come from, from the pale wrinkled flesh of her...face? Suddenly afraid, Selios almost let go altogether, but his mind was not entirely functional, and his curiosity got the better of him at this point. So he pulled some more, with more insistence, and found that the wrinkled flesh began to...pull away from her head slightly, and around her eyes, the pale - whatever it was, for surely it could not be real flesh - had pulled away almost completely. Pale flaps hung loosely where once they had concealed her true eyelids it seemed, dark brown things that spoke of the more Tuzarene seeming heritage of the dead Imperial soldiers than that of the local peoples. It hit Selios then, a mask. It was a mask. So fantastic a disguise he had never before seen, or even thought possible - but then, the hag did carry with her Sigils of Authority and had seemingly traveled with Imperial soldiers who had all died of no reason at all. Perhaps a witch of some sort...but a witch with Sigils? That was heresy, even to a less than religious man like Selios. Presented with such riddles, Selios could only continue to investigate. If she awoke now, he had no choice, much of her...mask...had already lifted away, and she would know it had been tampered with. Hegemony: Beginnings He pulled, and pulled some more, until all the false flesh simply pulled free, and to his only minor surprise, he found the woman's iron grey hair had been bound to the mask, so that as the pulled, it too came away altogether. Lifting away the pale mask and attached wig, Selios simply dropped them to the floor to study the true face of his would-be mistress. Rich black hair, lustrous and magnificently thick, had spilled forth when he had pulled away the mask, somehow contained by the mask and wig...it framed a face so exotic to Selios that he struggled to describe it to even himself. Her skin was indeed dark - and Selio thought it very similar in color to the pastes that Immo cooks made using nuts, dark and richly brown - it was also smooth and firm, signs of youth rather than age, so her decrepit appearance had been a complete lie, she was clearly not old enough to be named 'hag'. At a very basic level, Selio knew she was beautiful by any standard, and felt a stirring within himself as he continued to almost mindlessly gaze upon her features - he had never seen a Tuzarene woman, but he did not think they would be so...perfect, so clearly aristocratic and exotic even in slumber. He did not know how long he simply kneeled there, beside the bed that should have been his, staring at yet another mystery in a series of them that surrounded this woman. He had not woken her with his actions, but then a sudden gust of wind off the sea shook the wooden shutters, making them clatter noisily, and her eyes popped open immediately...to find him there, so very dangerously near. Neither Selio nor the woman reacted immediately to this odd situation, but when one did act, it was she who did so. A knife, sharp and well made, she produced from under her pillow, holding it tightly in a hand that was not one he had seen before - of course, it made sense that the pale brittle hands of the hag had been part of her disguise, but he did not see how she could have hidden her obviously more youthful, dark skinned hands in the withered husks of bone and pale flesh that he had seen her using naturally before. Selio, with a knife before his face, thought of such things, he feared death, as all men did - but she might, at best, leave his face somewhat scarred, and was in no position to threaten him meaningfully. With this in mind, he simply reached up and grabbed her hand by the wrist, and twisted it painfully with his calloused hands. "You are a bundle of lies and mysteries woman. You will tell me what your purpose is, and by what right you possess Sigils of Authority. It is heresy that a witch might have such, but you have already overturned many of my earlier assumptions." Selio's tone brooked no dissent. She bit him. Hard. Snaring his wrist in her jaws, she pushed her teeth into his flesh deeply, deeper than he would have thought a young woman would have had stomach for - and caused him enough pain that his grip weakened for a moment. That was all the time she needed, springing away from him, she slid off the other side of the bed, kicking the rich blankets onto him as she did so. Stumbling slightly as he rose, Selio was bleeding - not badly, but the wound did sting, she would pay for that, he would make sure of it - he pushed away the blankets in time to see that she had acquired one of the trophy swords mounted on the wall to pair with her knife. He also saw her. She was dressed in some sort of flimsy translucent black silk...shift? It had long sleeves that flared out at the wrists, and a wide, shallow collar that almost reached her shoulders, and revealed the tops of her defined collarbones. The silk then followed the contours of her body closely, not quite hugging her flesh, but tailored specifically to it - eventually stopping very high on her toned thighs, not far from being downright scandalous. Frankly, in Selio's mind, she might as well have slept in the nude - the silk thing only served to accentuate her figure and her assets, and hid nothing with its translucency. What a body! His nostrils flared at the sight of it - so this was why she had hidden herself as an obscenely fat old hag, for she was in truth the exact opposite... Firm, young and perfectly proportioned, any man would desire such a woman as this. Her breasts were large, well rounded, and without any hint of sag, large dark aureoles capping each; her waist was cinched and toned, not soft like that of the women he had known intimately, and her legs were long, with wide curving hips and strong, well formed calves. Selio consumed the sight of her with his eyes, and felt himself straining against the laces that bound up his breeches - the combination of adrenaline from danger and the woman's appearance was a powerful aphrodisiac, and it threatened to overwhelm Selio's senses. The woman, however, was not apparently in any similar distress - she remained coordinated and capable, holding her two weapons in a posture that indicated that she knew what to do with them. Indeed, she had begun to advance carefully on his position, her eyes locked on him. Selio mentally shook himself to clear the haze of lust that was clouding his ability to react - and considered his options. Some might consider him a lucky man, assuming he could overpower the woman easily enough - but he had met his share of strong women, one who had broken Bledor's arm in a fight, and cut Selio himself rather deeply, so he did not underestimate this one. But he was unarmed, and that was a problem. He considered his option, and chose one that might seem unusual for a man such as himself, but that he had used before - talk. "You have not answered my question. If you kill or wound me, none here will have any reason to serve you, and will readily kill you. Do you think you will be able to escape here?" His voice was firm, and betrayed a hint of confidence - he had only just realized the truth of that statement. "Silence oathbreaker, I may not long outlive you, but at least I will have the pleasure of slaying a savage and honor-less dog such as you." Her voice was nothing like before, when it had been gravel and dust, scratchy and ancient. Now it was smooth and rich, with an accent he was not surprised that he could not place. But her tone was steel - and that was no different than before. His anger filled his words as he roared back at her, "Oathbreaker?! You dare to call me oathbreaker? I have broken no oath, Tuzarene whore! It seems I know the words of the oaths better than you, nowhere must I protect your secrets or serve you as a slave...only guard your person from harm and serve you as an honored vassal for a year and a day, no more!" She spit at his feet. "You know nothing. Tuzarene? You mistake me for a desert barbarian born in a mud hut? You think you know the words of the oath? The pact of the Hidden Guard was written in words of the mystic language of the One Empire Under the Stars, not the vulgar tongue I am forced to speak to you in! Vassal? Year and a day? Your translation is weak, and evidence of your savagery, I own you barbarian! The pact is eternal, do you think the old Emperors would have tolerated limited service from so strong an oath?" Selio had tired of this, she had exceeded his capacity to argue - she could well be right, that his understanding of the oath's requirements were warped by its passage from father to child, and its translation from ancient Imperial tongues to the common speech of the Kingdom and the other tribes of these lands. He had managed to distract her from her full focus though, and had maneuvered while she spoke. Reaching behind him, he simply tore free one of the high wooden posts of the bed and flung it at the woman with all the force he could muster - now was not the time to hold back. She was fast, as he had expected she would be, to make up for the fact that she could never hope to match a man's strength, but not fast enough. She had only begun to duck out of the post's path when it struck her, and though the blow was glancing, the strength of his throw assured that it threw her to the floor regardless. The post had been long but not wide, and had struck her across the shoulder and on her left breast and arm, causing her to cry out in pain and release the sword she had stripped from the wall as she fell. Selio was on her in a moment, leaping astride her thighs so as to prevent her from kicking or moving much, and the struck her in the abdomen with his balled fist - forcing all the breath out of her. He was then able to disarm her fairly easily, twisting her wrist so she would release the knife, and then tossing the weapon away to the far corner of the room. So it was, that they lay there, in the deep of night, with the candles that lit the room guttering in the breeze that slipped through the shutters. He astride her, using his weight to hold her still, she, laying there, her chest rising in deep breaths as she refilled her lungs after his strike, her eyes half lidded, watching him. He was excited. He could feel it so strongly that it hurt, and she had to know it too. Selio Sagio Sajjhio, twelfth to the name, was completely in this unknown woman's spell - but she was trapped under his strength. Perhaps an unfair trade, but the question remained of who was in the weaker position... He lowered his face to hers then, using his hands to grasp both her wrists as he bent at the waist to look into her dark brown eyes. At least here eyes were not alien, deep, dark brown eyes he had seen before...so dark as almost to be black. She said nothing, not a word, but her breaths grew shorter, and her eyes met his. He kissed her then, pressing his pale, dry lips against her soft, dark ones. He kissed her and kissed her, driving his tongue into her mouth eventually, dueling with hers in time as she responded to his invasion. He could feel his beard scraping against the flesh of her face as he kissed her, the contact was like nothing he had had before - he felt everything, the press of her breasts against his chest as she took deep breaths between kisses, her hard nipples pressing through the thin silk of her nightshift and the cotton of his tunic... Finally, they stopped, and he lifted his head up from hers. Both their breathing hard for a few moments, voices silent as they considered each other and the situation. Her voice was no longer steel when she spoke, but it had a huskiness that betrayed her to him. "I need. Need you to help me. Once... once I could command the obedience of countless such as you, now... I swear to release you and your descendents from the pact. The Sigils give me that power, but only if you stand with me in my journey, my battle. If I die, it is unlikely any other will remain to remember the pact, so you will be free then as well as if I am victorious. I ask for you to do this, will you?" Her desperation embarrassed him - because it made him harder. "What if I am just an oathbreaker? Why not make you my whore? I could break you, I think, given time...and even if I could not, it would be fun, I think, to cage you and fight you every time I seek to have you." Her eyes widened - she was tough, but lacked a measure of true savagery, the kind that men such as Selio needed to live through battle after battle. She had no answer for him. He lifted himself off of her and stood, letting her rise without interference, but he did kick away the trophy sword that still lay near them. As she rose though, in her sheer silk shift, he began unlacing his breeches, and when she had straightened completely - he found to his momentary surprise that she was almost as tall as he - he had failed to notice earlier when she had been armed. In her earlier disguise, she had seemed short - so he had assumed that that had still been true, but he liked his women either way. Smiling, he feasted on the sight of her again, this time spurred by the way lust glazed her own gaze and caused her to let her eyelids half drop...and he pushed down his breeches, letting them pool around his ankles. Shortly thereafter, he had completely disrobed, leaving himself in the nude before the woman - his erect member pointing right at her. He stepped forward, and she simply stood there, her chest rising and falling, her arms hanging at her sides as she watched him approach step by step. When he was directly in front of her, he slipped his hands around her waist, and nudged her towards the bed. She complied after a moment, and slowly he guided her until she stood with the bed behind her, and him in front of her... It was a simple matter at that point to push her back onto the bed with a single strong shove, so that she landed with a grunt on the feather mattress, while he grabbed her ankles, and spread her legs obscenely. Seeing her like that, this strange, exotic woman with such a desirable body...lying on a bed, her legs spread wide to reveal her womanhood to him, spread so wide that her short silk shift had ridden up her thighs and was now bundled at her waist... It made Selios madly lustful, and he simply took her. She was wet, but not wet enough, and his precum was not plentiful at first, so his initial thrusts into her were painful for both, but he could not resist, would not wait. He wanted her now. And he had her. His thrusts were so frenzied, so needy and powerful that the bed shook and groaned as it bounced off the far wall, and he could feel her squeezing him, her inner muscles tightening around his cock as he rode her like an animal in heat. He finished quickly enough, the initial lust too much to contain, and he pulled out only just in time to send ropes of his white seed onto her inner thighs, her pelvis, all over her shift and even to her face and hair. Coating her in his release, streams of the sticky substance spattered all over her. Pulling out, he took several long breaths, closing his eyes to bask in the release. She lifted her head to look at him, sighed, and laid back down as she brought a hand up to her womanhood - clearly to bring herself to the completion he had managed only for himself. He simply slapped her hand away and pulled her legs up so that her calves hooked over his shoulders. He was hardly done. Thrusting into her newly well lubricated interior, he found himself able to continue at a much more reasonable pace, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of being inside this strange female that would simultaneously order him to and fro disguised as a hag, then seem to be a beautiful, exotic young woman and beg him to aid her. He feared that a witch's spell had ensnared his mind, and that he was falling deeper into her trap - but it was oh so pleasant. She was moaning, softly, but moaning nonetheless - and he hoped that he was at least somewhat in control when he felt her tighten around his cock and shudder as a release hit her for the first time. He smiled slightly, and leaned forward, making her fold under him, her thighs pressing against her breasts as he thrust in and out of her in slow, steady strokes that he dragged in and out of her wet slit. She was warm and sweaty now, the silk of her shift damp and sticking to her flesh, her eyes were completely closed and her lips parted slightly in an expression he had seen before. At least she fucked like women he had known. Though she seemed, if anything, a bit inexperienced - he had known only whores so far, and even expensive whores tended to have a bevy of experience behind their bed play. Soon, Selio was trying hard to think of anything but how tight and wet she was, how warm she felt around him and how she tried to hold him inside every time he began to pull out. He was close now to his second release, and he wanted her with him, in truth he wanted her to scream his name - but he wasn't sure he could get her that bothered, or even that she would remember his name except when she had to. Finally, he could control himself no more, and began wildly bucking in and out of her, and as he did, she began to gasp with pleasure, and he knew he had her then. After a few more powerful and quick thrusts, she trembled and shook as another release took her, and cried out in a tongue he did not know. He took that as his sign, and pulled out of her, and proceeded to spray her prone form with a fresh coating of his seed, though perhaps not so explosively as the first time. He slumped down on top of her, his head on her stomach, his feet still on the floor. Selio could feel her chest rising under his head, and some of his own seed was now smeared onto his cheek and shoulder and chest where it lay across her wet and oozing womanhood and pelvis. "Get off me." Her voice was not...unfriendly, but not gentle either. She retained a measure of command in her tone, even now - Selio wondered if the earlier desperation in her tone had been an act, those promises false. He didn't wonder about anything for long, because she pushed him onto his back and climbed atop him, positioning herself so her slit was right atop his face, and her head was situated above his cock. Selio felt her lips tongue lazily stroke the side of his now mostly flaccid member, and he immediately felt a new stirring. Then she promptly pulled him into her mouth and began to really work on him - her lips wrapping around the head of his cock and her tongue swirling about the tip as she slowly sucked him in and out of her mouth. The sensation was amazing, she seemed reasonably good at this at least, and he found himself starting to return to full hardness as her spit lubricated his entire shaft. Soon, her hands had found begun to caress his sack, and gently massage his testes as she sucked on him. The combination had him breathing hard through his nostrils, and his teeth clenched as he heard his heartbeat in his ears. He had closed his eyes at some point...and so he was caught off guard when she suddenly mounted him again, using her hands to grip his member and guide him into her slowly. Selio had little to do this time, as she took her own pleasure from him as he had had her before, and he once more heard the bed's wooden frame groan in protest - but from her powerful, rhythmic bouncing atop his cock, rather than from his forceful entry of her. The smell was overpowering. He could smell her juices and his own, the room was saturated with the smells of their fucking, and he let the experience roll over him as he reached up and gripped the sides of her firm, cinched waist as she drove herself into a frenzy atop him. She wasn't just moaning and grunting now, indeed, she was just short of squealing, and within moments, they were both shaking with the need to release. She slid off of him, rolling to his side, and used her hand to bring him to finish as he slid his fingers past the swollen, flushed lips of her slit deep into her, and brought her to her own climax. She almost tore his cock off then, so tightly did she suddenly grip it as she shook with release. Selio let sleep take him there, flat on his back on the bed, his legs dangling off the foot of the mattress, with a strange woman lying by his side, coated in his seed.