Storiesonline.net ------- Ebon Genesis by Darkniciad Copyright© 2006 by Darkniciad ------- Description: Love, loss, and torment transform the heir of Witharten. Be warned, this is a dark tale with taboo elements, although there is a theme of romance running alongside it as well. Details the origins of a major character in my world who will probably appear in later stories. Codes: MF fant slow horror rom 1st cons reluc Blkm violent inc sis het Fdom rough humil sad oral mastrb ws creampie ------- ------- For Ed~ Thanks for sparking me to tell this tale! ------- Chapter 1 With a final grunt of effort, men, heavily bundled against the cold, biting wind, pulled a weathered old cart stacked with split logs onto the road. The trek across the stretch of uneven ground between the woods and the road, though short, had required a great deal of effort and concentration. The frozen ground was hard and unyielding, every stone-hard clump of earth hidden beneath the snow threatened to bring them to a halt or tip the cart over. They were both relieved to leave the rough terrain behind, knowing they could move twice as fast on the smooth, well-maintained road, and would soon be home. This winter showed all the signs of being a long, bitter one, and the pair had wisely decided to prepare for that possibility before the first heavy snow fell. After days of hard labor, this final cartload of wood would provide enough fuel to keep their fires burning even through an unusually long season. Not far away to the South, the people would be experiencing the first frost of the season. Here in the highlands, close to the towering peaks of the Sperrot range, winter arrived quicker, and lingered longer. The sound of hoof beats, and a horse's snort, caused them to turn and look behind them — in the direction from which the sound had arisen. Cresting the hill on the frozen road was a familiar sight. The carriage belonged to the Baron, and was fine enough to have commanded a price equal to their entire home. Crafted of the finest wood and Dwarf steel, a massive pair of black horses pulled the carriage along. The breath of the animals released great clouds of steam as the carriage moved toward them at a brisk pace. The pair pulled their cart off the road reluctantly, granting the right of way to the approaching carriage. Although they were common folk, they were certainly wise enough to stay out of the way of the highborn. As the carriage drew closer, they could make out the fine scrollwork in the wood, dominated by the Baronial Crest. The driver was as bundled against the cold as they were, though naturally his coats and cloaks were fine, as befitted one in the service of nobility. Shimmering frost coated the scarf wrapped around his face, which revealed only his eyes, filled with irritation, staring in their direction. The wooden body of the carriage was free of ice and snow, and even steamed slightly in the frigid air. Once the carriage had passed — and the way was again clear — the two men pulled their cart back onto the road, and continued toward the welcome warmth of their home — muttering about rude nobles. Inside the carriage, Tharsas, heir to the Barony of Witharten, sat looking out the window. His magic ensured the interior of the carriage was a comfortable temperature, so he required no heavy clothing to protect him from the cold, as did his driver or the two men with their cart. Those who study magic often neglect their physique, but such was not the case with Tharsas. Having no need to spend all his time in toil, he could devote equal time to his body and his mind. Lean muscle lurked beneath his skin, providing him with a strength that was deceptive for his thin frame. His shoulder-length, dark brown hair flowed freely in waves, unbound as it always was. Blue eyes with flecks of gold stared back at him from his reflection in the window, though Tharsas noticed neither his reflection, nor the scenery outside. He made this journey daily, an hour each way, to study with the Master. He had done so since his ninth birthday, when at last his father had found a suitable teacher for him. Tharsas had duplicated the minor magical feats of a magician during a festival at the age of six, and his father had determined immediately that it was his young heir's calling. Indeed, magic burned in Tharsas' blood, and he learned new Art with phenomenal speed. Thoughts of his studies had vanished as soon as he had climbed aboard the carriage. His brief respite would soon end, and he would be within his prison once more. Bitter thoughts of the past — as well as trepidation about what lay in store for him once he reached the castle — filled his head. Tharsas' eyes narrowed, and a scowl darkened his face. The Baron's heart had failed five years ago, and Tharsas should have become Baron in his place. Such was not how things had unfolded. Tharsas' mother had died in childbirth. His father had remarried a young widow, to strengthen ties with a neighboring Barony, not long thereafter. When his father died, Tharsas' stepmother, Peronelle, had convinced the members of the Federation that the Chancellor should be made Regent, until Tharsas was prepared to assume his duties. The neighboring Barons who comprised the Federation agreed, and thus the Chancellor had been installed as Regent. Of course, it was truly Peronelle who ruled the Barony. The Chancellor was little more than a figurehead to obscure her role, which would have been rejected by the people of the Barony, and the Barons in the Federation. The reins of control, and the purse strings, were firmly in the grip of Peronelle — regardless of who ruled the Barony in name. Tharsas' majority had arrived, and passed — Peronelle continuing to assure the Federation that he was not ready to rule. The next rising of the sun would herald Tharsas' twenty-first birthday, and still he was denied his birthright. Since the death of his father, Tharsas had been treated almost as if he were one of the servants in the castle. So long as he remained out of sight and out of mind, he was free. Such was unfortunately a rare occurrence. Tharsas' eyes were drawn to the castle, as the carriage turned down the road toward it. The dark stone of the fortress contrasted sharply against the snow-covered mountainside behind it, a magnificent sight that never failed to impress visitors. Once a welcome sight to Tharsas, seeing the castle now filled him with foreboding. Once he had happily called it home, but it was a place of bitter memories and cruelty now. He thought about leaving, never to return. It was not the first time such thoughts had entered his mind, and such musings had become more frequent of late. As the carriage pulled into the stable, Tharsas spied a hopeful sight. He recognized two horses that were not usual residents of the stable, and that meant that at least two of the Federation's Barons were in the castle. Peronelle would be distracted while entertaining them. Tharsas took a deep breath and jumped from the carriage as soon as it stopped. Holding his breath against the smell of the animals, he exited the stable, through the covered walkway, and proceeded hastily toward the West, once inside the castle, hoping not to be seen before he reached his room. He closed the door to his room with a sigh of relief, and immediately fed the fire in the fireplace to bring light and heat to his small world. Now safely behind closed doors, he used his magic to learn the location of those in the castle. Upon completing the spell, Tharsas discovered that the Barons were meeting with his stepmother, and it appeared she had ordered the attendance of his stepsister Colette, and half-sister Lavina. Tharsas scowled at Lavina, his lip twitching, and teeth clenching tight. Lavina had only reached her majority not so long ago, but she had ruled over her two older siblings for years, as if she were the eldest. Lavina was a younger twin to her mother, in both appearance and temperament, and treated Tharsas just as badly as his stepmother. The young woman smiled now, attempting to charm the younger of the two Barons with whom they spoke, who was yet unmarried. The smile did little to hide the severe cast of her features, which were framed by raven-black hair. Wide cheekbones caused her dark eyes to look deep-set — almost scowling. Even a genuine smile on her face looked false, and it was no genuine smile she wore now. Though she was three years his junior, she could have easily been mistaken for an older sibling. The cold confidence in her brown eyes bespoke experience, and anyone looking upon her could not help but notice it. Combined with the obvious deference shown to her by family and servants alike, it would be an easy mistake for a person to assume her older than her years. Her gown displayed her thin frame and small breasts to good effect. The best dressmaker for miles in any direction having been paid handsomely to ensure it did so. Tharsas looked away before the memories came back, the word coward popping into his head as he did so. His eyes fell upon his stepmother. Only slight lines of age, and a few extra pounds, differentiated the woman from her daughter. She chatted with the elder Baron, her goal the same as that of her daughter charming the younger Lord. The younger baron spoke with Lavina, but Tharsas saw his eyes roving to Colette frequently. Tharsas felt anger bubbling up inside him, and clenched his teeth — willing the feeling to subside. Colette was only a few months separated in age from Tharsas, and she was the only bright spot in his existence. She was kind, gentle, and treated him like a person. The Baron looking at her — with a combination of lust, and cold calculation — made Tharsas' blood boil. There could be little doubt what drew the man's eyes, however. Where a smile looked unnatural on his stepmother, or Lavina, the lack of one looked so upon Colette's freckle-dappled face. Her big, liquid brown eyes provided a pathway to her kind soul, for any who looked into them. Her hair seemed to be incapable of deciding whether it was light brown or blonde, almost appearing to change from one to the other, according to her moods. It hung down in gentle waves, just covering — and spilling over — her shoulders. The gown she wore displayed just the slightest view of the cleft between her large breasts. Where Lavina was thin, Colette was all soft skin and sensual curves. She was hardly overweight; she was simply shorter and thicker than her half-sister was. He looked at her for a few moments, her smile bringing a little light to his mood. She was not subject to treatment equal to that which he received, but their half-sister ordered Colette around quite frequently. Colette took the orders in stride, always doing as she was asked without complaint. Tharsas knew from talking to her that it bothered his stepsister though, and that their stepmother was unconcerned with Colette's feelings regarding the matter. Tharsas dismissed his magic, content that — at least for a little while — his time was his own. Walking over to the heavy oak door, and opening it, he found a servant waiting nearby. While he was given little more consideration than they were by his stepmother, he was still heir to the Barony, and thus the servants were expected to be at his disposal. The servant had been standing there since within moments of his arrival, though Tharsas gave such no thought. "Bring food and wine, leave it outside the door, and knock once," he said to the awaiting woman. "Yes Master Tharsas," she replied, curtsied, and then proceeded immediately to fulfill his request. Tharsas took down the book that he had nearly finished reading the night before from the crude bookshelf he had cobbled together, and fell into his studies. ------- Tharsas awoke with a start, the tightness of his bladder almost painful. He hurried to the chamber pot to relieve the pressure, and then returned to his desk to put away his book. He had fallen asleep sitting up, exhaustion claiming him despite his best efforts to keep it at bay. A look out the window told him it was late — well after dark. He had lost track of time as he studied, and the entire day had slipped away. A look out into the hall revealed no servant waiting there, confirming the lateness of the hour. He could of course ring the servant's bell, but such could remind Peronelle or Lavina of his presence, which was the last thing he wanted. Hunger gnawed at his gut, so he crept out into the hall, walking as swiftly and silently as possible to the kitchen. His path took him past one of the common rooms, and sounds from within caused him to slow his pace — and increase his stealth. Reaching the doorway, the source of the sounds was obvious — as were their nature. There was no other path to the kitchen, save exiting the castle and using the servant entrances to the kitchen and stable. Tharsas nearly abandoned his quest, rather than pass in front of the open doorway where he might be seen. He certainly had no desire to go outside into the bitter cold, and use the other option available to him. Another growl from his stomach overcame his fear, and he passed in front of the door quickly, glancing inside to see if he was noticed. He was certainly not noticed. His stepmother was bent over a divan couch, facing away from the doorway, the older of the two Barons mounted behind her. The muscles in the Baron's broad back rippled, as he grunted with exertion and pleasure. Peronelle was obviously in the throes of release, and Tharsas knew he would have to hurry, in order to get back to his room without being spotted. Once in the kitchen, he picked up some meat, cheese, and a bottle of wine. After a brief consideration, he chose to brave the cold, rather than pass back in front of the open doorway again. His lip twitched as he thought about what was going on in the common room. He knew this was a big part of why his inheritance was being denied him. His stepmother regularly offered favors to the Barons, and had all of them wrapped around her little finger. Growling and shaking his head to clear it, he wrapped his magic around him, and stepped out the servant entrance into the biting wind. Neither the wind nor the cold touched him, as he made the long walk around the castle to the stable entrance. He was pleased to note that the spell remained tight about him, despite the speed at which he moved. In the past, he had experienced difficulty with this, mostly due to moving on to more interesting studies without practicing the spell extensively. He had since wisely returned to the magic, and methodically imprinted in his mind — naturally mastering the spell, as he did any magic he chose to study. His hunger sated a short while later, Tharsas fed the fire to keep it burning warmly throughout the night, not noticing that the woodbin was full, where it had been empty in the morning. He then removed his robes, and slipped beneath the thick coverings of his bed to sleep. ------- Tharsas awakened with a sense of someone being in the room with him. The feeling was confirmed moments later, when a nude form climbed onto the bed, and sat on his chest. The food in his stomach suddenly turned to lead as the scent of womanly arousal assaulted him. Lavina moved forward, grabbed him by the hair — jerking his face into her sex — and growled, "Lick it." He knew better than to disobey her. Time and time again, he had been taught the folly of resisting her demands. She turned even more violent when he refused to please her, immediately upon command. The one time he had dared bring the subject up with his stepmother, shortly after the first few unwanted touches, it had resulted in a severe beating. Peronelle had accused him of lying, and beaten him nearly senseless for daring to accuse her favored daughter of such detestable acts. Lavina had been furious at him for telling Peronelle what she had done; although, their mother had not believed a word, and the next night she had dragged his bruised face into her pussy for the first time. Tharsas had hoped he might be spared this for a while, seeing the young baron responding to Lavina's advances. As he forced his tongue out and between her lips, he could guess why his hopes were unfulfilled. He could taste the bitter, salty evidence of the man's seed inside her. The noble had obviously left her unsatisfied, and now that duty fell to him. He concentrated on completing the task quickly, flushing with embarrassment as he felt his manhood begin to rise, despite his anger and revulsion. He knew that if he did not satisfy Lavina — and quickly — he would be left with her nail marks in his flesh, and likely would be punished by his stepmother for causing Lavina to make those marks. Lavina would naturally create some excuse for the attack, which would be accepted at face value by her mother. Lavina held his hair in a tight grip, causing pain to shoot from the roots, as he lapped and sucked at her dripping pussy. The thick cream of the Baron oozed from her into his mouth as he licked her, causing his stomach to lurch. Lavina began to rock her hips, grinding her sex against his face, her closely cropped tangle of dark hairs scratching painfully with every movement. Lavina growled to him, "Faster you little fuck!" She punctuated her words by pulling his hair harder. Tharsas increased the speed of his lapping tongue, concentrating on the firm little bud at the apex of her labia, as she had painfully instructed him so long ago. He could feel — and hear — the telltale signs of her approaching a peak, and indeed her juices washed over his face moments later as she came. Lavina held his face tight against her quivering sex until the waves of passion dulled. When she pulled away from his face, he knew what was coming next. The coverings were jerked away from his nude body, revealing his erect manhood. His eyes narrowed, as he considered the betrayal of his body responding to Lavina's violent advance, against his will. Half of him seethed with anger, while the other half pleaded to be inside her. Lavina moved to kneel over his legs, which he knew better than to move. She grabbed his cock pointing it up, and slightly toward his feet, causing pain to shoot up his spine from the root. Moving over top of him, she impaled herself on him. She wore a sadistic smile as she bounced on his cock, staring down into his eyes, and growling her pleasure. "This is the only thing you're good for Tharsas," she snarled, and then leaned down over him, to slap him across the face for good measure. Her small breasts jiggled, as she slammed her hips down on him with ever-increasing pressure, her head lashing back and forth, her pleasure mounting. The sound of their flesh clashing, and the squishing sound of his manhood plunging into her saturated depths filled his ears, as the thick aroma of her arousal filled his lungs. Tharsas could feel his pleasure mounting as well, and fought hard against it for more than one reason. At last, Lavina slammed down on him and let out a snarling scream, her juices flowing to leak out around him as she came. Her walls contracted tightly around him, threatening to trigger an explosion from him as well. Tharsas grit his teeth, bending his will toward keeping his seed trapped in his tight balls. He gasped in relief when she moved off him, and he had resisted releasing inside her. While she obviously felt she was in a safe part of her monthly cycle, he knew all to well that she would punish him if he reached his peak — and that the punishment would be both painful and humiliating. Her taking of him was for her pleasure, and he was to be denied any release from her. Lavina stood, and then picked up his robes from where he had discarded them before retiring. She used them to wipe the sticky wetness from between her legs, and then hurled the robes at him. "It's a pity I can't just take your cock and tongue with me, and leave the rest of you — because they're the only worthwhile part of you," she sneered, as she began putting back on the nightgown she had discarded. The words of a spell burned brightly in Tharsas' mind — a powerful spell. One that could kill. It was always like this when she took him — anger warring with arousal. Just as he was beginning to notice girls, and experiment with the servants, his stepmother had taken steps to prevent him from having sexual liaisons. Thus, Lavina's humiliating advances were the only ones he had ever known. His lips twitched, aching to speak the words of the spell and strike her down. His manhood throbbed, begging to be engulfed inside her again and given release. Tharsas closed his eyes, willing the thoughts away, because he knew neither was possible. Lavina would never give him pleasure, and the ring she wore would turn aside his magic. The ring was the twin of the one his stepmother wore, which she had been careful to point out prevented him from using his magic on her, or her favored child. The ring Lavina wore had once graced the finger of his father in life. Tharsas heard the door to his room close, and wrapped his hand around his cock — slick with Lavina's juices. The need was too great to ignore, and after only a few strokes, thick ropes of semen spurted across his chest. He used his robe — already soiled by Lavina, and smelling strongly of her — to wipe his body clean. He tossed the robe to the floor, and then pulled the coverings back over him. Tharsas curled up and waited for sleep to claim him once more. ------- Tharsas stayed late studying with the Master the next day, darkness fast approaching by the time he stepped into his carriage. He had a two-fold purpose for remaining late — the first being that he had no desire to return to his prison. The second reason was that the Master had left him alone, to prepare some food, when he expressed his intention to stay late. This had presented Tharsas with the opportunity to break the magical wards on the old man's private bookshelf, and quickly copy several forbidden spells with his Art. Tharsas looked down at the magically scribed spells now, smiling smugly, as he considered the nimble workings of his mind, which had allowed him to obtain them. The Master had been away only a few minutes, but Tharsas had broken the wards, located three interesting spells, copied them, and resealed the wards before the graybeard had returned. As his conveyance approached the castle, he saw a near identical, but larger, carriage coming up the road toward him. Quickly falling into his spell casting, his heart leapt when he discovered that both his stepmother and Lavina were in the carriage, with the two Barons. Tharsas, for a short while, would be Lord of the Castle. It was only on these rare occasions — when they were both gone — that he felt he received the respect he deserved. He knew his freedom had limits, however. Any attempt to tryst with one of the pretty serving girls would lead only to disaster. It would take only hints of conversation from one of them to invite severe punishment — and would likely cause his stepmother to leave with less frequency, or force him to come along when she did, to cater to her whims. There was also the bitch that was in charge of all the servants in the castle, who kissed Peronelle's ass as if she was a fawning lover. Martina would be watching him like a hawk in his stepmother's absence, to prevent him from touching one of the serving girls. Going to town to look for female companionship was likewise out of the question, because that would be where the other carriage was going. Word of either carriage pulling into town spread quickly, which ensured any potential he had for enjoyment would be quickly dashed on the rocks. Tharsas shook his head and snarled, trying to make the thoughts go away. They were only tormenting him, and the knowledge that it was Lavina's taking of him the night before that caused them to be so prominent in his mind was unmistakable. He looked down at the spells in his hands again. They were his escape from the troubling thoughts, but that would require secreting himself in his cramped room, and missing the opportunity to wander the halls of the castle freely. The carriage pulled into the stable, and Tharsas made his decision. He carefully hid the sheets of paper in his room, dressed in his finest, and went out into the castle. He nodded to the servants — who bowed respectfully to him as he passed — and was pleased to note that while the annoying thoughts were not gone, they were overcome by the rare feeling of power he experienced in Peronelle's absence. On his way to the kitchen to have something prepared for his supper, he saw Colette lounging in the sitting room where he had seen his stepmother the night before. She was drinking tea, and sitting upon the same divan Peronelle had been bent over the night before. He shook his head and pushed those thoughts away. The smile that spread across Colette's face when she saw him aided that effort in no small way. "Hello, Tharsas, it is so good to see you. You hide away in your room with your books all the time." Tharsas could not help but smile back at his beautiful stepsister, "You know why." Colette put a finger to her lips, keeping her smile intact. "I know — but forget about that for now. Mother and Lavina are down in the town, and they will be there for hours. We have the castle to ourselves for a while." Tharsas wondered if Colette actually was able to push aside the rude treatment they both received with such ease, or whether she put up a good front. He knew the memories of his dismal life were not so easily pushed aside. Her easy smile certainly indicated that she felt truly free at the moment, and he could see no evidence it was forced. Her smile was infectious, and he felt his own demeanor lighten as well. "Would you like some tea? There is plenty of hot water in the kettle still, and it should be cool enough you won't have to wait to drink it. I know you think it's silly to heat something to the point you can't put it in your mouth immediately." "That sounds fine, Colette. I was just going to see if I could get something prepared to eat, I'm starving." "I'm a little hungry too. I could probably use a little bite before I bathe, and retire. I'll go get something for us. You just have some tea, and relax." Colette sat down her teacup, and rose from the divan — gesturing toward the kettle, which sat on a serving board, with all the necessities to make tea. "I can send for one of the staff, Colette, there's no need for you to go." Colette waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, "They have enough to do. This is such a small thing, and the kitchen is just around the corner. Have some tea. I'll be back in a minute or two." She walked out of the sitting room, her lips still turned up in that smile that brightened the room. Tharsas turned to watch her leave, before picking up the kettle to make his tea. As she turned to walk down the hall upon exiting the room, Tharsas realized he had been staring at the way her bottom swayed as she walked. The effect was almost hypnotic, and he felt a tingle in his loins. His smile was, if anything, even wider now that it had been when he first greeted her. Blinking his eyes and shaking his head, he turned to make the tea. Colette returned a few minutes later as promised, and she asked him about his magic. She listened intently, and asked questions. It reminded Tharsas pointedly — and somewhat painfully — of his father, as it always did when they talked about his passion. Colette knew next to nothing about magic, but she was curious, and more than willing to listen, just as his father had been. A servant arrived shortly thereafter to supplement their tea with bread, ham, and cheese. Colette began talking about her flower garden behind the castle, and while Tharsas initially listened politely, he soon began to pay close attention. Colette knew much about the care of plants, and her knowledge was proving to be a welcome supplement to the Master's teaching on the subject. Tharsas learned more that would aid him in finding and growing the various plants that he needed for his spell craft in that conversation than he had been taught in years by the graybeard. Tharsas felt disappointment grip him when Colette yawned. "I should be away to the bath and bed. I'll have terrible circles under my eyes if I stay up much later. It's been nice to talk to you, Tharsas. We should talk more." "I wish they were away more often," Tharsas replied — with dark memories of why he did not often leave his room and find this opportunity assailing him. Colette stood and laid a hand on his cheek. "I know Tharsas. One day, you will be Baron, and then they'll have to stop treating you so badly. Goodnight." "Goodnight, Colette." Again, Tharsas' eyes followed her as she left — blood surging into his loins, and his breath catching in his throat. His eyes sought to see beneath the concealing layer of her clothing — to see where the smooth line of her neck melted into her back, and the way her rounded bottom swayed in such a mesmerizing way... Once more Tharsas had to force down the troubling thoughts of arousal. That part of him was screaming, She's not really your sister, but thoughts of Lavina intruded, and cast a shadow over his feelings. Growling quietly, he rose and went to his room — where forbidden spells awaited his perusal. ------- Chapter 2 Colette turned and looked over her shoulder as she exited the doorway into the hall. She wondered if his eyes were on her as she left the room, and instead of making her uncomfortable — as it should — the possibility made her smile. The thought was confusing, worrisome, and comforting — all at the same time. She knew that Tharsas was treated like a dog by her mother and sister, and she suspected that Lavina did something worse to her stepbrother, though she had no idea what that might be. The amount of fear and anger she saw in Tharsas' eyes, when he thought about their younger sibling, was simply more than the ill treatment she knew of could account for. Her mother paid her little mind — instead fawning upon her younger sister. While this really didn't bother Colette that much, as being ignored was far better than the look of disappointment in her mother's eyes when she did notice her, it still stung a little. Tharsas had always been a bright spot in her life, ever since they had moved into the castle. Even when things were happier — before her stepfather's heart had burst — Tharsas had been her favorite playmate as a child, and one of her best friends as they grew older. A dark cloud had descended over the castle when the elder Tharsas had died. The servants, her stepbrother, and she had been devastated. Colette found it very confusing that her mother almost seemed to be rushing to get him in the ground, and did not appear to miss him at all. Heat rose in Colette's cheeks when she remembered accidentally discovering her mother — only days after the funeral — coupling with one of the Barons who had arrived to pay his respects. It was shortly thereafter when Tharsas had begun to lock himself away in his room, leaving Colette without the pleasure of his company. Turning into the bath room, Colette closed the door behind her, failing to notice that it had not latched, as thoughts of her conversation with Tharsas intruded upon her dark musings — a welcome distraction. She remembered his smile vividly, and could still feel his cheek under her hand where she had touched him before leaving. A tingle between her legs caused her to shiver as she thought about Tharsas. She stiffened, frightened by her body reacting so improperly to thoughts of her brother. The feeling refused to go away, however, no matter how hard she tried to turn her thoughts to other things. As she undressed, she discovered the reason why. Dark ruddy spots revealed themselves on her panties when she removed them. Colette bit her lip and stared at them. Her time of the month was upon her, a few days early, and with it came the unnatural heat that nearly drove her mad. As always, she tried to ignore her body screaming for release, knowing the futility of her resistance. She stepped into the tub — the water always kept clean and of a proper temperature by the servants, night and day — leaned back, and tried to think about what she might do the next day. Colette always felt a little lost when winter came and took her from her garden, which was her passion, and diversion. She had tried to take up any number of hobbies, but always found they felt more like work than a pleasurable diversion. After a while, she simply let her mind drift and forgot about tomorrow. Colette leaned back in the tub, deeply relaxed by the warm water surrounding her — and something else. Her hand had drifted between her legs to caress her nether lips. The tingle between her legs had spread and grown in intensity, far beyond any possibility of being ignored. She pressed two fingers between her folds, knowing that her need would consume her thoughts until it was sated now, and that the heat would likewise assault her constantly over the course of the next several days as she bled. Colette's fingers stroked in and out of her slowly, her thumb occasionally rubbing over her bud to stimulate it as well. Her breathing quickened, her nipples stiffened to pebble-hardness, and the tingle inside her grew to an ever-increasing itch that consumed her with its strength. Her eyes closed, her mouth opened, and she sucked in a long, slow, deep breath, as the pressure within her reached painful intensity. Then her breath seeped from her in a quiet, broken gasp, as her release came over her. Her body quivered, and her fingers pressed hard into her depths as she came — her back arching and thrusting her breasts upward into the chill air. She collapsed back into the water — sloshing it over the sides of the tub — as the wave broke, depositing her back in reality once more. She gasped for breath, and her eyes fluttered open. Her eyes then widened, as she thought she saw movement in the dark corner where the concealing wall blocked view of the tub from the hall outside. She bit her lip to prevent more sounds of pleasure from escaping her, and stared hard into the gloom, trying to adjust her vision to compensate for being under the light of the braziers in the room. After a few moments, she determined it must have been her imagination, and let her stiffened body relax once more — a quiet moan escaping her at the same time. She closed her eyes again, settling into the warm water — and the even warmer feeling of afterglow brought on by her orgasm. ------- Tharsas watched with open-mouthed awe as Colette's face tightened, and her large breasts thrust out of the tub. Her body quaked as if she was being shaken by an earthquake, a gasping breath escaping her — sounding like music to Tharsas' ears. He remembered passing the bath room, hearing the faint sounds of water lapping in the tub, and the next thing he knew — he was standing in the shadows watching her. His heartbeat thudded loudly in his ears, and between his legs, his cock throbbed in time with the echoing thumps in his ears. Colette sank back into the tub, and then he saw her eyelids begin to flutter slightly. Reality hit him like a hammer, and he darted back out of the room into the hall. The intense throbbing in his ears, and between his legs continued — growing stronger. Tharsas hurried to his room, closing the door and pulling down the front of his trousers, with a gasp of relief. The trousers were tight enough normally, as such was the current fashion, and his pulsing erection had made them feel like a noose cinched about his private parts. Pre-cum coated his glans, and another drop welled up as he leaned against the door — breathing heavily. The image of Colette with her large breasts thrust upward, rivulets of water — shimmering in the brazier light — running down her body, and a look of ecstatic release on her face was burned into Tharsas' mind. No matter whether he opened, or closed his eyes, he could still see it. Still leaning against the door, he closed his eyes and gripped his cock, stroking it fast, as the image of Colette in his mind quivered and gasped. He heard the sound of his grunting gasp before he realized he had made it, his manhood pulsing and spurting thick streams of semen onto the floor before him. He continued to gasp, as the spasms ceased, leaving him to drip slowly, while his legs wobbled beneath him. Tharsas slid down the wall and sat down hard, his cock still throbbing and oozing. His head fell forward, until his chin rested against his chest, and he fought hard to regain his breath. ------- Lavina thankfully did not come to torment him, and take him that night. Either the young Baron had performed better, or she had found it impossible to slip away from him. Tharsas prayed the same would hold true for as long as the man was in the castle. Not only had he been spared Lavina's advances in the night, he had been spared her finding meaningless and demeaning tasks for him to perform during the day. A mixture of confusion and arousal battled within Tharsas, as he rode to the Master's home to study, and he found he could not concentrate once there. The image of Colette reaching her peak in the bath, and the sounds of her musical gasps of release ran through his mind constantly, blurring any other thought he had. The old graybeard suggested he should return home early and rest, thinking him vexed with some sort of ailment. Tharsas nodded wordlessly, and walked out to his carriage, startling the driver — who was lounging inside, enjoying the warmth of Tharsas' magic. Tharsas smiled when he saw the larger carriage being prepared for a journey upon returning home, indicating at least one of his tormentors would be leaving this evening. His heart lurched when he considered the possibility it might be Colette going somewhere, and he hoped his first instinct was correct. Upon reaching his room, he pulled a chair from its place, and stared intently out the window that overlooked the stable. A short while later his smile returned when he saw Peronelle and Lavina entering the stable, with the two Barons. He immediately dressed in fine clothes, and walked the halls, hoping to find Colette. When he did not find her in any of the common areas of the castle, he went to her room. The door was shut tight, something that was rare for his stepsister. He started to knock, but his nerve failed him. He listened for a few moments, but could hear nothing. Once more, he raised his arm to knock — and once again, he let it fall to his side. He walked the halls back to his room, and there cast a spell to see what Colette was doing. When the image appeared before him, he saw that she was lying in bed, rubbing her temples, with her eyes tightly closed. She was still dressed in her nightgown, and appeared to be feeling quite ill. A servant was at her side, and Colette sat up to take the medicinal tea from the woman, while Tharsas watched. Tharsas let his magic lapse. Colette was not feeling well, and he would not disturb her. The hidden sheaves of paper scribed with his pilfered spells leapt forward in his mind, and he smiled. If he could not enjoy the pleasure of Colette's company, his magic would certainly suffice. Looking through the papers, he selected what appeared to be the easiest of the three at first glance. Reading the description of the spell, he discovered it was a death spell, something that the Master would never teach him. It was a minor spell, created to kill vermin and insect pests, but was death magic nevertheless. Tharsas studied the spell, silently mouthing the words and practicing the gestures described. He could feel a warmth building inside him, and knew he was finding the correct pronunciation and inflection. When he reached the last syllable and mouthed it, the heat within him seemed to contract into a tight ball in the pit of his stomach, turning icy cold. It was a far different sensation than he was used to, but unmistakable as the signal he had mastered the spell. He knew exactly where to find the perfect test subjects. The compost piles for the kitchen leavings constantly drew uninvited guests to the castle, even in winter. The warm walls of the kitchen also provided a perfect haven for them. Anxious to cast the spell and see its effects, Tharsas hurried to the servant's entrance of the kitchen. Peeking out the window, he saw a pair of rats feasting on the leavings of the last meal. Knowing that the cloudy glass pane would be no barrier to his magic — and that opening the door might cause the rodents to scatter — Tharsas cast the spell as he looked out the window. He felt an intense chill flow all through his body, causing his muscles to stiffen and his teeth to clench. A sickly yellow cloud appeared over the refuse pile, and the rats immediately began to twitch and writhe. Within a few seconds, they were both stiff, with only the faintest muscle spasms rippling through their extremities. Casting another spell, Tharsas wrapped a bubble of warmth around him, and stepped outside. The vermin were now quickly freezing in the frigid air — stiff as boards. Tharsas felt a great swell of satisfaction well up inside him, and he kicked one of the dead rats with a loud laugh. Turning toward the wall, he saw the hole through which the pests emerged from to feast. Casting the death spell again, he directed the cloud through the hole, once it formed. Tharsas was rewarded with the sounds of squealing and scratching emerging from the hole — then silence. Drawing back his leg, Tharsas aimed carefully, and kicked the second rat on the refuse pile far out into the courtyard — laughing as it bounced across the frozen ground. Turning back to the door, the thought occurred to him that there would now be dead rats in the walls of the kitchen. Casting a spell of clairvoyance, he saw at least six or seven dead rats, and a multitude of curled up bugs lying within the wall. Noting the location, he made a mental note to inform one of the staff to pull out a block in the wall, and remove the dead creatures before they began to stink. Tharsas walked inside and closed the door, allowing his warmth spell to lapse. A broad smile of satisfaction decorated his face as he walked confidently through the halls. He stopped one of the servants, and relayed the information about the dead rats. The servant looked confused, but replied that he would see to it at once. Tharsas was returning to his room, planning to study another of the purloined spells, when a meow caused him to turn. A dark smile crept over his face — his eyes narrowing — as he stared at Lavina's longhaired white cat. Tharsas wondered whether the spell would be as effective on the feline as it had on the bugs and rats. His fingers formed the first few gestures of the spell, as he spoke the words, staring with burning hatred at the cat Lavina loved. He stopped, the words falling from his lips. While killing the cat would make him feel good — so good — at the moment, the act would be pointless, and would only cause him more problems — once Lavina blamed him for the death. Looking around to make sure nobody was watching, he quickly mouthed the words of a different spell, and pointed at the cat. The feline yowled and hissed when the spark of electricity leapt from Tharsas' finger and zapped it. It immediately turned to race away from him down the hall. Drawing at least a little satisfaction from giving the cat a good shock, which wouldn't leave any marks to accuse him of; Tharsas continued to his room to study another of the forbidden spells. If this one proved to be as useful — and amusing — as the last, he would certainly be distracting the graybeard often, to glean more of the dark magic from that warded bookcase. ------- Colette stood outside Tharsas' room, biting her lip, with her hand raised to knock on the door. She had already been standing thus for quite some time, hesitant to complete the action. There was a war raging inside her, and neither side was gaining ground. She thought she heard something then, and leaned in close to the door to listen. Concentrating, she recognized the sound. It was Tharsas' voice, and he was speaking words in the language of magic. The faint sound of the repeated syllables through the door was different from those she had heard him utter before. The words caused a shudder to run through her body, raising goose bumps on her skin, and conjuring up an image in her mind of spiders crawling all over her. Colette stepped away from the door, wrapping her arms around her and shivering. She could no longer hear the words a step away from the door, but they echoed in her memory still. Colette thought, Tharsas is studying his magic, I shouldn't disturb him. Now that she had an excuse not to confront the feelings at war in her heart, Colette left to return to her own room. Her head once again began to throb painfully, as she walked farther from Tharsas' room, and the cramps she had been ignoring forced their way through her mental restraints. Now nearly in tears from the pain, she hurried to her room to lie down. ------- It took Tharsas six more long nights of study to learn the other two spells he had copied from his teacher's warded bookcase. Often he awoke deep in the night, face down on his desk, where he had fallen asleep from exhaustion. The first spell he had nearly filed away without studying further. It raised the dead as mindless walking corpses. Even as he started slip the paper back into its hiding place, his hunger for new magic overcame his revulsion for the dark nature of the spell. The frozen rat corpses behind the kitchen proved to be a perfect medium for testing the spell. The animated rodent obeyed his commands without fail, even remaining motionless and hidden as he slept, immediately moving to obey new orders the next day. After using the dead creature to chase Lavina's cat for a short while, he reversed the magic, allowing the corpse to fall inanimate to the frozen ground once more. The second was the most difficult spell he had ever seen, by far. It was learning this magic that devoured most of his week of study. Tharsas' eyes rolled back in his head when he felt the icy bite of the spell's mastery deep within him. This spell he would not cast for mere observation purposes. Only in the direst of circumstances would he use this black magic, though he was fully prepared to do so should it be needful. The spell sucked the life force from its target, and transferred it to the caster. This transference restored the strength of the recipient, both physical and magical, and could heal even grave wounds through the absorbed energy. It could also kill — painfully — causing both physical pain, and tremendous mental trauma, as the victim felt their very life being sucked from them. All the while, he had been spared torment by Lavina, or his Stepmother. Other Barons had arrived for a meeting of the Federation, joining the two already in residence. He knew his stepmother reinforced the notion that he was as yet unfit to rule, which infuriated him, but Tharsas welcomed the respite from his servitude to the two women, and the nocturnal visits of his half-sister. Lost in his studies and free of his typical daily torment, he was content. ------- Each day Colette found herself outside Tharsas' door, sometimes more than once. She had even opened the door to his room and peeked in once, when her cramps had awakened her deep in the night, finding Tharsas was slumped over his desk, sound asleep. Colette stood for long minutes just watching him sleep, and then crept back to her room — to toss and turn the whole night through. Every day also found her forced to give in to the heat that always assaulted her during this time of the month, and this night was no different. The burning desire was beginning to cool — the accompanying cramps and headaches having faded the day before — but the need was still beyond Colette's ability to ignore. Sliding open a drawer on her dressing table, Colette withdrew a gilded box, and placed it on top of the table. She crossed the room and lay down, retrieving a silver key from its hiding place. Resting on a lip of wood beneath her chest of drawers, it was the place she thought least likely for anyone to look. Brushing the dust from her nightgown, she rose back to her feet, and returned to her dressing table. Placing the key in the lock of the golden box, she withdrew her diary. The diary was not what she sought, because she had already penned an entry this day. Colette slipped her fingernail between the corner of the box, and the felt cushion in its bottom, raising the padding up so she could pinch it between her fingers. Hidden beneath the cushion was her most precious secret. A friend from town had spoken in hushed whispers of her secret friend, and had gifted Colette with this one on her eighteenth birthday. Colette pulled out the wooden phallus, which was perfectly smooth — save the flare at its tip — and coated in shellac, which made it even smoother to the touch. Closing the box, Colette clutched the toy to her breast, and walked to her bed. Her door was already locked to insure the location of her key remained secret, and she had lain a towel down to prevent any stains from the end of her period. She lay down on the bed, with the wooden shaft lying in the cleft between her breasts. Colette laid her toy on the bed, and reached for the neck of her nightclothes. As soon as her fingers unhooked the first button of her nightgown, the throbbing heat in her loins began to ease, changing to pleasant warmth, in anticipation of being given release with the wooden cock now lying by her hip. The buttons came undone quickly, and she pulled the nightgown open to let it fall away from her body as soon as it was done. Her nipples were stiff, pointing toward the ceiling already in anticipation. Wetness had begun to gather between her legs even as she entered her room and locked the door several minutes earlier. Pulling one arm free, and then arching her back up off the bed, she pulled the clothing out from under her — pushing it up toward the headboard. She cupped her heavy breasts in her hands, caressing them and letting her fingers brush against the hard tips — and then let one hand slide down to her mound. Colette's hips rocked upward, and she gasped as her finger touched her nether lips — and then again as she slipped it between them. She could feel her juices coating her fingertip, even with that slight penetration. She reached for her toy, and slid it into her mouth to wet the tip. In her mind's eye, it was no toy that entered the warm embrace of her mouth. It was a real cock, hard and throbbing, begging to be inside her. She sucked the wooden cock in and out several strokes, almost able to hear the gasps of pleasure coming from the man she imagined was attached to it. Her body intruded upon her illusion, demanding satisfaction with a jolt of urgent energy that caused her hips to buck upward again. Pulling the toy from her mouth, Colette parted her legs, and pressed its flared tip against her opening. With a slow push, she buried it in her depths. Moaning quietly, Colette left the toy buried, pushing against the butt end to move it slightly inside her. She then gripped the shaft and withdrew it from her, pushing it back inside as soon as the flared head of the toy brushed against her labia. She stroked the wooden phallus at an ever-increasing pace inside her, her need driving her to seek release quickly. Her other hand moved downward to stroke her bud beneath its protective hood with a fingertip. She gasped quietly, her head rising, and then falling to the pillow — in a slow, steady rhythm — as her pleasure mounted. Her hips bucked up toward the toy as she thrust it inside her, the image of a handsome young man with dark hair taking her so real in her mind. Her walls clenched tight as she drew near her precipice of pleasure, gripping the stroking toy in her hand like a trap. She perched on the edge of release for seconds that felt like hours, her teeth and eyes clenched tight — and then she toppled over the edge. Colette's walls relaxed for an instant, and then clamped down even harder than before on the toy buried to the hilt inside her. Her head slammed against the pillow, and then bounced upward — her muscles tightening and pulling her upright, as her climax shot through her body. Colette's mouth opened in a silent scream, her jaw quivered, and a bright flush of rosy heat colored her face and chest. The spike of pleasure ended, and Colette dropped heavily to the bed once more, with a gasp. She continued to suck in deep breaths that seemed to bring no air into her body, blasting them out in gasping exhales a moment later. Another spike of almost painful ecstasy shot up her spine, causing her back to arch, and her whole body to quiver, as she lay with her back and rounded bottom hovering above the bed. The peak subsided slowly, and she sank to the bed with a soft moan. She could feel wetness dripping down the shaft of her toy — coating the hand that held it. Her bud throbbed beneath her finger, and her heart pounded as if she had just been running in a race. In her mind's eye, the dark-haired man shuddered in ecstasy, with his eyes closed tight, and his manhood spurted its reward over her shuddering body. It was exactly how it had looked when she had seen Tharsas masturbating in the bath a few months before. ------- The Federation council ended, and Tharsas was once more subjected to his normal role of servitude upon returning home from school. Each day, he secreted away yet another magically copied page from the Master's forbidden bookcase, though he had found no time to study any of the ill gotten spells. Peronelle and Lavina had time to order him around like a slave once more, though his half-sister had not yet come to him in the night. Tharsas was relieved to be spared at least that, though he grit his teeth in anger when he felt his body respond with arousal every time he considered Lavina's dominating advances. Three weeks passed, and Tharsas withdrew into himself, as he always did when his stepmother had time to notice him. He did as he was ordered, and then returned to his room to drop off in exhausted slumber. Upon returning home at the beginning of the fourth week, he was surprised not to have either of the cruel women waiting for him with a list of chores to heap upon him for the day. It occurred to him then that the winter festivals would begin this night — lasting throughout the entire week. His taskmasters would be busy preparing for the parties they would attend, and the party they would host for the wealthy of the Barony, and surrounding lands. Tharsas went immediately to his room, a stash of new magic awaiting his eager eyes, but discovered almost immediately that he could not concentrate. He had been too long trapped in his lethargic, withdrawn state, and found it difficult to break free of the feeling. Putting away the spell he had started to study, one that would hurl a spray of flesh dissolving acid, he sat heavily on the bed and tried to order his mind. After a few minutes, he surrendered with a growl, and instead cast a spell to spy upon the family and servants — to see what transpired within the castle. Lavina and his stepmother fussed over gowns in Lavina's room, the sight of Lavina's near nude body making him ache — and growl in anger at the same time. The servants brought out decorations to be cleaned for the coming party, or otherwise went about their duties. Colette sat before the mirror that rested on her dressing table, looking uncomfortable, and somewhat distraught. Tharsas was about to banish the magic when he saw a servant walking toward Lavina's room. He watched for a moment and his heart leapt as the servant announced that the carriage was ready to take them to town, whenever they were ready. The answer that they would be ready in two hours broke the bonds of lethargy that had imprisoned Tharsas. He immediately retrieved one of the copied spells from its hiding place, and sat down to study until his jailors left the castle. The spell closed the throat of the target, preventing them from drawing breath. It could be used to render an enemy unconscious — or kill if the magic was held in place long enough. For such a deadly spell, it was relatively simple. Tharsas felt the icy bite of having mastered the spell some time later. He was tempted to test the spell on Lavina's cat. He hated the annoying beast, and it belonged to the sister he hated more. He knew this spell would leave obvious evidence of use even if he didn't kill the wretched feline, so he chose to wait and test the spell when he could find vermin, a bird, or some other animal to use as a test subject. Looking out the window, he was unable to determine exactly how much time had passed since he sat down to study the spell. Falling into his magic, he spied on the castle, to determine if his stepmother and Lavina had left yet. His spell's seeking magic found them boarding the carriage, and he smiled broadly. Now the castle was his for a few hours at least. Turning the magic to the kitchen, he found the staff there still busy cleaning the dishes. There would still be someone present to prepare him a meal for quite some time. Thoughts of ending the gnawing hunger in his belly caused him to think of Colette, who appeared to be feeling out of sorts. He turned his magic toward her, thinking he would go and offer to bring her something to eat in her room. He was surprised to find her standing right outside his door, hand raised to knock, but not completing the action. Tharsas banished his magic, and went to open the door. Colette started and let out a little yelp of surprise when the door opened. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, Colette," Tharsas said, reaching out to grasp her hand. He felt her shudder when his skin touched hers. "It's okay — I just need to catch my breath. I had only just arrived and started to knock, when the door opened as if by magic. It startled me, that's all." Curiosity crept to the forefront in Tharsas' mind, and he thought, Why did she lie to me? She obviously had been standing there for a while. She certainly didn't just arrive. Aloud he said, "Did you need something? I was just about to go get something to eat." Colette smiled, and Tharsas felt a matching grin pull up the corners of his mouth, as it always did when his beautiful stepsister's face was decorated with a bright smile. "I'm absolutely famished. May I join you?" Colette asked. "Of course, it will be easier for the staff if we both come together. We could eat in the sitting room. The fireplace there will keep us warmer than anywhere else." "I thought we might bring the food here. That way we won't have to stop talking immediately if mother and Lavina come home early." That also struck Tharsas as odd, but certainly not unwelcome. "That sounds fine. Let's go get the food, and a little wine. I normally like to be out of my room when they are gone, but if I have you to talk to, it won't feel so much like a prison." Color rose in Colette's cheeks, and she cast her eyes downward for just an instant — her smile growing even wider. "I like talking with you too. We don't get to do it very often anymore." "Let's go before everyone flees the kitchen, and forces us to scrounge for our own meal then," Tharsas said with a laugh. ------- It was quite late when Tharsas closed the door to his room behind the departing Colette. The sound of them returning to the castle broke the bright mood, which had permeated the room for hours. Once they had eaten, they had sat on his bed and talked. Wine had flowed freely as they chatted, Colette sitting close to him — and moving closer as time passed. By the time they had heard Peronelle and Lavina returning, she was sitting close enough that their bodies brushed each other slightly as they talked. Tharsas was still staring at the door — smiling broadly — as he thought about that. He could still smell the scent of her hair, could still hear her laugh, could still see her... His smile vanished. Tharsas was thinking about her nipples, pressing so tightly against the cloth of her blouse, about the way her body moved, and how good it felt when she touched him. He was rock hard, and now that he was not lost in the heat of the moment, those thoughts caused a chill to run through him. Tortured thoughts began to assault Tharsas, How can I think about her that way? What if she sees me tearing my eyes away from her body? Am I no better than Lavina? Tharsas growled, the wonderful mood he had been in utterly destroyed now, as part of him screamed that he was just as foul as Lavina — thinking about Colette that way. He shook his head and turned, walking back to the bed. The sight of the empty wine bottle, glasses, and the two plates only caused the thoughts in his head — and his arousal — to surge once again. Closing his eyes, Tharsas thumped his forehead with the palm of his hand, as if trying to drive the thoughts away with physical force. He stopped and threw his arms out wide, the copious amounts of wine he had consumed threatening to throw him off balance. The intoxication was also making him drowsy, for which he was actually thankful. He stumbled over to the bed, and collapsed heavily onto it, still dressed. His mind drifted into a fog and he passed out. ------- Colette walked back to her room, wincing from the increasing pain in her head and the first throbs of cramps beginning to assail her. On top of that, her nipples were so hard that they stung painfully, as each step jostled them in her tight blouse. She knew the pad that she wore was soaked with more than the evidence of her monthly cycle. A painful heat and throbbing still drowned out the cramps and headache — for the moment. She had wanted so badly to touch him as they sat so close. She had indeed reached out and laid her hand on his arm several times, as they talked. Once, she had nearly succumbed and leaned in to kiss him, which would have sealed her fate. For the last several cycles of the moon, ever since she had stumbled upon him masturbating in the bath, she had been unable to stop thinking about him at this time of the month. She had always felt the increased arousal with her cycle, but now it had a focus — and that focus was Tharsas. This past month, she had found that her thoughts strayed to him even after her week passed. She could not drive the image of him, and the sound of his voice from her mind. Her heart raced, and her breath quickened any time she thought about him. Colette reached her room, stepped inside, and then closed the door, to lean heavily against it. How did he beguile her so? He had certainly made no advances upon her, although she swore she had noticed him looking at her body as they talked. She had even glanced between his legs with her peripheral vision, and believed she had spied the evidence of arousal there. It was wrong, she knew. They were brother and sister, if only by association. They shared no blood, but they shared a familial bond nevertheless. She should not be thinking about him this way ever — let alone constantly. Colette sighed and hung her head for a moment — and then pushed away from the door to walk toward her dressing table. She couldn't help it. She desired him — loved him — and there was nothing she could say to herself that would convince her emotions to change. The pain in her head spiked as she thought about it, and she reached wearily for the box of powder the healer had given her to combat the pain each month. It also — thankfully — made her drowsy, and she would soon be asleep, free from thinking about her conundrum for a while. ------- Chapter 3 Tharsas awakened, panting for breath. The memory of the dream was still fresh and vivid in his mind. He rolled over off his stomach, onto his back, and could see where his erection was pulling the waistband of his pants up high enough that he could see down them. The dream was so real — so vivid — that he was amazed he had not ejaculated in his pants. He also couldn't get it out of his head. The dream consumed him, and when he closed his eyes, he could see her nude body, smell her scent of arousal, and hear the sounds of her pleasure. Tharsas jerked off his shirt — sweat beading on his body despite the chill air. His pants followed, and he climbed under the thinnest of his sheets, trying to go back to sleep. Half of him wanted the troubling thoughts and arousal to go away, while the other half of him was hoping the dream would return. Tharsas' hand had wrapped around his cock before his brain registered that it was moving. He couldn't think, couldn't sleep, and there was only one way to make his painfully throbbing erection go away now. Tharsas surrendered to his arousal, closing his eyes, and letting the nude vision of Colette in his mind have her way with him. His hand rasped over his flesh, and he built quickly toward release, due to his already heightened state of arousal. The sound of the door opening caused him to jerk the covers over him, before his eyes even opened. When they did open, his stomach lurched — because he saw Lavina closing the door, and scowling at him. "You disgusting little fuck," she said, crossing the room and slapping him hard across the face. She started untying the robe that covered her as soon as the blow landed. Her weight pinned him down to the bed only a moment later. Lavina edged forward to sit on his face, chafing him with her stiff, dark pubic hairs and pulling up on his hair at the same time. Tharsas started lapping, the real scent of her arousal blending with the memory of Colette's in his dream. He closed his eyes, and it was not Lavina his tongue explored, but Colette. The taste of the juices washing over his tongue seemed to change — becoming sweeter. He lapped hungrily, Lavina's growls replaced by musical moans from Colette in his mind. Lavina let out a long gasp, pulling hard on Tharsas' hair, and grinding her pussy into his face, as she reached her peak. Her hips rocking ground her pubic hairs into his face, and it broke him from his daydream. He had to force himself to keep lapping her now, though moments before he had been devouring her with glee. Lavina let out a little growl and slid off his face. "I need to catch you pulling that thing more often. That was good," She purred, patting his face, which was slick with her juices. She then started sliding backward toward his loins. When Lavina impaled herself on him, Tharsas once again closed his eyes — and it was Colette who sat astride him, wrapping him in her warm embrace. Her juices trickled down his shaft, gathering into drops in the dark hair on his balls. Her large, pendulous breasts bounced hypnotically as she rode him, her face a mask of ecstasy. Colette called out to him, "Oh yes, you feel so good Tharsas!" Once again, the growl that accompanied Lavina's orgasm snapped Tharsas back to reality, a few moments too late. He fought hard to control his body, trying to prevent the inevitable. His teeth clenched, and his muscles tightened, but to no avail. With a choked off groan, he spurted his seed into Lavina's hot sheathe. He kept his teeth clenched, trying to keep from bucking his hips, praying she wouldn't realize he had come. When he opened his eyes, hope drained away. Lavina growled and slapped him hard across the face, snarling, "You stupid little fuck!" She then pulled off his pulsing erection. He was still oozing when his cock was exposed to the chill air again. Lavina looked down at it, and then back up into Tharsas' eyes, with anger burning in hers. She bent over him and grabbed his hair, then dragged her body over his, and sat on his face again. His seed was already dripping from her. "Clean it all out," Lavina growled, and then pushed, the mingled juices inside her spraying out with a flatulent sound to coat his face. She continued to push as he lapped her, his stomach lurching. Somehow, he managed to keep his gorge down, until she climbed off him. With a wicked grin, she leaned down over him and stared hard into his eyes. She then stuck out her tongue and licked his face. "You do taste good," she said with a mocking laugh, slapped him, and added, "But you know better." Grabbing him by the hair, Lavina dragged him across the room. When they were next to the chamber pot, she forced him down hard. Tharsas winced from the pain of his knees hitting the cold stone floor, but offered no resistance when she continued to push him down. He lay on the chill stone, dreading what he knew was to come. Once before he had been unable to resist reaching climax, and she had been prepared with what she considered a proper punishment. Lavina stepped over him, standing directly over his drooping member, with her feet on either side of his hips, her knees pushed outward slightly. She stared hard into his eyes, a combination of a smile and a sneer on her face, and parted her nether lips wide, with the fingers of one hand. The first trickle of urine splashed warmly over his chest. Lavina moved slowly until her arching stream started splashing over his face and neck. His eyes burned where the golden liquid had splashed into them. He coughed when his nose was closed by a splash, and he was forced to open his mouth slightly to breathe. The bitter taste caused his stomach to lurch, but once again, he battled down the nausea successfully. As her bladder emptied, the stream slowly retreated from his face, down his chest, and the last few drops fell over his manhood. Lavina released her labia and knelt down, pinching Tharsas' chest hair between her fingers and pulling, forcing him to rise. As soon as he sat up, she grabbed his head and pulled it to her sex, forcing him to clean the bitter remnants from her with his tongue. Lavina pushed him away, and then kicked him in the hip. "Now clean this mess up." Tharsas rose and picked up a cloth from near his washbasin. He wiped his body clean first, so he would not drip on the floor, and then started sopping up the urine — wringing out the cloth into the chamber pot. Once he was done, Lavina walked over to him, dressed in her robe once more. She pulled him up by his hair yet again. "Keep licking my cunny like that, and I might just suck that dick for you sometime." She released his hair, slapped him once more, and then trailed mocking laughter as she exited the room. ------- Colette walked back to her room from the kitchen, carrying a slab of cheese. She had missed the noon meal lying in her room, fighting off both pain and emotion. She could not get Tharsas out of her mind. Every moment since she had awakened, he had consumed her thoughts. Most of those thoughts came bearing arousal, and she had climaxed three times on her fingers — and wooden cock — since awakening. Passing the sitting room, she nearly ran into Lavina, who was exiting. Her mind was still in a fog of emotion and arousal, and so she did not think about whom she was asking the question in her heart, "Is Tharsas home yet?" Lavina sighed, "How should I know if the crazy fuck has crawled back here yet?" Colette pursed her lips, her eyes hardening in anger. "He's not crazy." Lavina rolled her eyes. "If he had been born to a different father, the nutty whelp would be chained to a wall, eating from a dog dish by now." Colette gasped and leaned against the wall, pressing her hand over her abdomen, as an especially strong cramp assaulted her. "I swear, you cry like a baby the whole time you're bleeding," Lavina sneered. She then pushed past her half sister, and walked away. The spike of pain passed, and Colette stood back up again. She had been angry with Lavina before, but a white-hot hatred burned behind her eyes now. She can't say things like that about Tharsas — that evil bitch, Colette thought. Her teeth clenched tight, her body trembling, Colette stared hard at her sister's retreating back — about to chase her down, and tear her eyes out. A voice arose from the sitting room, "Are you coming to the party at Lord Randall's this evening?" Colette started and turned to look at her mother. "I-I don't feel well, Mother." Peronelle sighed. "Your sister is right, you do cry like a child. I don't want to be anywhere near when you are in labor, if you are crippled by nothing more than monthly craps. Go then — lie in your bed, and mope." Stung by her mother's words, Colette hurried away from the doorway to her room. Peronelle sneered at the empty doorway Colette had just vacated, muttering under her breath, "I should have left that one for the wolves the moment they cut her loose from me. She is nothing more than her useless, soft-hearted father reborn." ------- Tharsas' carriage rolled into the stable only a short time before nightfall. He had stayed late with the Master, providing an opportunity to copy the remaining spells that interested him from the warded bookcase. During the intervening time, he had turned his every thought to his studies to drown out the memory of Lavina's visit in the night, and the confusing feelings he had concerning Colette. He winced when he saw Lavina and his stepmother walking into the carriage house just as his carriage stopped. Tharsas sat, hoping they would get in the carriage and leave without acknowledging him. Peronelle turned toward the carriage in which Tharsas sat. "Tharsas, the servants are all needed to prepare for my gala. Thus, you will empty and clean the chamber pots. I want them all done before I return." Tharsas nodded his understanding. "Did you hear me, boy?" "Yes, Mother," Tharsas replied. The word mother left a bad taste in his mouth as he said it, which he was sure was the reason she made him address her so. "Then get out of that carriage and get to work. I swear you are the laziest child I have ever seen. Your father doted on you too much." Peronelle shook her head in irritation when she finished speaking, and then stepped up into the carriage. Lavina offered him a crooked smile and a twitch of her eyebrows, before she climbed into the carriage as well. Tharsas knew this had been her idea, an extension of the humiliation she had subjected him to by pissing on him, and forcing him to clean it up the night before. Tharsas exited his carriage and walked into the castle, resigned to a night of scrubbing the foul-smelling pots. He dragged his feet at first, and then realized he needed to hurry. The task would take hours, and had to be done before his sister and stepmother returned. Tharsas increased his pace, going first to his room to hide away the copied spells. He changed into old clothes, which he would burn when he was finished, and opened his door to begin the onerous task he had been assigned. A welcome face greeted him outside his door. Chancellor Vargas stood waiting for him. "Welcome home, young Master. I am aware of the task Peronelle assigned to you, and I have given it to another. I will not stand by and watch you scrubbing filth. It is beneath you." Tharsas smiled wide, but his face fell almost immediately. "She will find out, and then we will both be put to task." Vargas patted him on the shoulder. "Peronelle will not discover my duplicity. I have had many years to practice working behind her back, young Master. I do my best to maintain your Barony in the manner your father would have wished. I cannot spare you all that you endure, but I will do what I can for you. I owe your father that much, for raising me to my position based upon my ability, instead of leaving me to wallow in the caste of my birth." "Thank you, Vargas. You served my father impeccably, and I only wish it was I whom you served now, instead of my stepmother." "As do I, young Master. Colette has been asking after you. Shall I send for her, and have food brought to the sitting room? I believe you would do well to relax for a time." Tharsas' heart skipped a beat upon mention of Colette. He mastered his emotions quickly and said, "I'll go see Colette first, and then decide, Vargas." "Very good, young Master. You know those who still hold dear their loyalty to your father, and thus to you. They will serve you this evening, as is fit for the heir of Witharten." With that, he bowed and took his leave. Tharsas returned to his room, changing into clothing that was more comfortable. Without thinking, he once again put on some of his finest, before going to seek Colette. He kept in the forefront of his mind that he was going to see his sister, who obviously had been feeling unwell the past couple of days. He was going to speak with her, see what she wanted, and treat her with respect — as a brother should treat a sister. ------- Colette's breath caught when she heard the knock on her door. "Yes?" "It's Tharsas, Colette. You wanted to see me?" Colette rose quickly from her chair, and moved to the door — her pulse racing. She had spent the entire day in a fog of conflicting emotions, and had only noticed it was growing dark when she saw his carriage rolling toward the castle. The one constant in her every thought had been that she ached to see Tharsas again. Opening the door, she broke out into goose flesh, as a chill raced up and down her spine. He was dressed so finely, and looked so handsome. "Colette?" She realized she had simply been staring and smiling at him when he spoke. Colette felt her face grow warm, as her cheeks turned red. "Please, come in," she said, and opened the door wide, stepping aside so he could enter. Tharsas had not seen the inside of Colette's room since they had been very young. Gone were the playthings of youth, replaced by the possessions of a young woman. Everywhere were soft, earthy colors, obviously her preference. The room smelled of her hair, and her perfume. The effect was nearly intoxicating to Tharsas, and he found he had to fight down a shudder from the sensation. "I thought we might talk again. We never get to spend any time together any more. I have a bottle of wine, but I didn't know if you would want anything to eat," Colette said as she shut the door, locking it. "I had something as I studied. I'm glad you asked me to come." Tharsas grinned as he looked at her, the smile so wide it made his cheeks ache. The color in Colette's cheeks deepened as she went to pour the wine. They sat and talked — of Tharsas' studies, of what she planned to do with the garden in the coming spring, and about Vargas, whom they both liked. Colette was drinking far more wine than was customary for her, and she was becoming a bit light-headed. The reason was that she could not tear her eyes — or her thoughts — away from Tharsas. There was a warm glow around her heart, and another between her legs, both of which were consuming her. Time after time, she wanted to blurt out that she loved him — that she wanted him. However, she feared he would leave in disgust — and truly, she would not blame him. She swore that she had noticed him looking at her — that his eyes had roamed over her body, in places that were not customary for a brother to view on a sister. Each time she thought she saw such a glance; she nearly revealed her heart to him. When she looked into his eyes, doubt assailed her, and she remained silent. Tharsas sat with one leg raised slightly, on the side facing Colette, trying to hide the erection that he simply could not force to go away. The scent of her in the room, the soft sheets of the bed they sat on, the musical sound of her voice... All served to assault him, and turn his thoughts to his dream — and the waking dream of her in the bath. It took every ounce of his willpower not to stare at her and try to look beneath her clothing, which would have only increased his arousal. All the while, his ardor competed with the wide smile on his face, which refused to go away. He had not felt as good in years, as he had these two days talking to Colette long into the night. Though he had been here less than an hour, it felt longer, and he enjoyed every minute of it — despite fighting his body that betrayed him. He would not be like Lavina. He would not impose that upon his beautiful sister. Colette mentioned a necklace she thought to wear to the gala, and rose to get it from her jewelry box to show Tharsas. When she stood, her head swam slightly — between the wine and rising too quickly — and she stumbled. Tharsas caught her, his arms wrapped around her to steady her. As if from a distance, she heard him say, "Are you alright?" She did not answer. The feeling of his arms wrapped around her, the sight of concern in his eyes, and the undeniable evidence of his arousal — plainly visible now that he was standing — overwhelmed her. She leaned forward and kissed him. Tharsas was startled, his eyes going wide, as her lips pressed against his. They were so soft, and tasted so sweet. He felt the stiffness in his muscles from the initial surprise melt away. His hand moved to the back of her neck, and he returned the kiss. His whole body tingled, and he felt as if he was floating above the floor, Colette rising beside him, held tight in his arms. Their lips parted, and their eyes met. Guilt surged up inside Tharsas, a flood of heat that turned his face bright red with embarrassment. "We shouldn't... This is..." Colette placed a finger over his lips. "Please don't say it. Just love me." She then replaced her finger with her lips, and once more Tharsas was transported into a drifting dream world, where reality ceased to exist. Here, only he and Colette existed, and here they were free. Colette guided him to sit down on the bed — feeling the love and need in his kiss deliver pulses of pleasure through her body. Her feelings were returned. He would not flee from her in disgust. He loved her and wanted her, just as much as she loved and wanted him. They came to rest on the bed, kissing softly, and caressing each other's backs. Colette moved her hand down his back and to his side. It lingered there for a moment, and then slid down into his lap, to rest upon his swollen manhood. She gasped and looked down — tracing the lines of him where he strained at the pants he wore. Her fingers went to the button at his waist of their own accord, and unfastened it. A second button followed, and her eyes widened as she revealed the purple head of his cock. Colette looked up into his eyes, her lips parted slightly. Tharsas could feel the hot kiss of her breath against his skin. "It's gorgeous," she said softly. Tharsas again started to protest that they shouldn't be doing this, though the last thing he wanted to do was stop. The protest, and his breath, were both stolen when Colette rubbed her fingers over his glans. He gasped, rocking his hips toward her hand slightly, as he throbbed from her touch. Colette let out a little, "Oh," of surprise, as she felt him pulse beneath her fingers. She unhooked the remainder of the buttons — fully revealing him to her wide-open eyes. She ran her fingers over him, fascinated by the texture, and the rhythmic throb of his heartbeat pulsing through the organ. Several times, he gasped and his member twitched, the tip swelling, as her fingers continued to explore him. "Does that feel good?" She looked up into his eyes while asking the question. Tharsas nodded, his eyes half closed in pleasure. "Yes," he replied. Colette smiled — now knowing that she was giving him pleasure. "I've never been with a man. Have you been with a woman?" Tharsas' face turned bright red, and he simply answered, "Yes." He did not expand upon where almost all of his experience had arisen. Still caressing his manhood, Colette said in a breathless whisper, "Show me how a man loves a woman — and teach me how she pleases her man." Any negative thoughts that remained in Tharsas' head vanished with those soft, passion-filled words. He leaned forward and kissed her, moaning into the kiss, as her hand squeezed tight around his cock. The kiss was ardent — their shared passion, and love for the one bright spot in their lives passing between them, in the press of their lips. When they broke from the kiss, Tharsas leaned back slightly and cupped her large, somewhat pendulous breasts in his hands. He shuddered while feeling their weight, and the firm yield of her flesh cradled in his palms. Colette's head tilted back slightly and she gasped, her eyes half-closing, the lashes fluttering. Colette drew in a deep breath, locked eyes with him, and then pulled at the hem of his shirt. Tharsas assisted her in removing it, and she leaned in to kiss his chest just below the right shoulder blade. Tharsas exhaled sharply, his skin prickling with goose bumps from the touch of her lips. The scent of her hair and perfume filled his lungs, even stronger now that she was so close. She moved across his chest, and kissed him in the same spot on the opposite side — then moved lower. Tharsas stroked her back, as she placed kisses all over his chest. He shuddered and gasped with every touch of her lips, his muscles tightly clenched. She looked up into his eyes, and pulled at the waist of his pants. Tharsas rose up off the bed, and let her pull them down. She slid off the bed to one knee, removing his shoes, and then removed his pants. When she looked up at him this time, he could feel her warm breath kissing his manhood. She stood back up and unhooked the first button on her dress. Tharsas watched her, his breathing slow and labored. A chill shot through his body when she shrugged the dress off her shoulders, and revealed her breasts. Seeing them from a distance had given Tharsas no real sense of them. Her small, dark nipples were erect, and surrounded by a slightly lighter brown oval that blended gently into her full breasts. Colette pushed the gown past her hips, and allowed it to pool to the floor, revealing her panties. The final bit of cloth covering her was puffy from something between it and her skin. She noticed the curious glance — and color leapt into her face, spreading down to her breasts. "I-it is my time of the month," she said shyly. "I want to see you — to touch you," Tharsas replied to her unspoken question, and fears that he would lose his passion upon learning she was within her cycle. "The heat comes upon me with every changing of the moon, and I cannot bear it. It consumes me, and you have likewise consumed me since my last cycle. I need your touch. I cannot sate the need, no matter how I touch myself," Colette pleaded — placing her hand on his cheek, and letting every ounce of her need flow into her eyes. Tharsas leaned forward, kissing over her navel. He then slid his thumbs in the waist of her panties, and started to pull them slowly down from her hips. Colette watched him as he revealed her bare-shaven sex, pulling her panties down past her knees, and letting them fall, to pool at her feet. She stepped out of them, kicking them — and the ruddy stained pad within — under the bed. Tharsas reached out and cupped her sex in his hand. Colette emitted a warbling sigh, and closed her eyes tight as he touched her. She opened her eyes when she felt his hands move to her waist, guiding her toward the bed. She sat down on the bed — trepidation and anticipation both surging high within her. A gentle push against her shoulders instructed her to lie down, and she did so, the desire she saw in his eyes washing away her worries. Tharsas rose to his knees and leaned over her, pressing his lips to hers in a hard, hungry kiss. The burning heat in Colette's loins spreading out, becoming the warm glow of anticipation she always felt when she knew her aching need would soon be given release. As his lips left hers, he lifted one knee, and straddled her body. Colette looked down and shivered as she saw his engorged manhood so close to her nether lips. Tharsas moved backward, straightening over his knees, and then lowered his body down, supporting his weight on one elbow. He cupped her left breast in his free hand, running a fingertip over the pebbled flesh of the tip, while he suckled her right nipple between his lips. Colette gasped, and her back arched in ecstasy, as his hands and mouth offered her the first true taste of the mysteries between man and woman. Her mound rose up to him, and she cold feel his erection throbbing against her sex, as he teased her breasts — fanning her passion even higher. Tharsas marveled in the feeling of her body surrendering to him, begging for him. It was so different than when Lavina took him, and even from those few times when he had let his hands roam over another woman of his own will. Her breasts moved slightly under his ministrations with each deep breath she took, and shook when shudders passed through her body. Each time she quivered, her mound would rise up to him, causing his manhood to throb and twitch, demanding to be inside her. He released her nipple from his lips and looked at her. Colette's eyes opened, and he could see within them the same ecstasy and wonder he felt. A need so strong it could not be ignored swelled up within him. He needed to taste her of his own will — to put his lips on her because he wanted to — and feel her reach her peak on his tongue. He needed a counterpoint to Lavina shoving her pussy into his face, scratching him with her stiff hairs, and smothering him. Tharsas levered back up above her, and started to move down her body, kissing her skin softly as he moved, his goal drawing ever nearer. "Tharsas..." Colette started to protest, feeling uncomfortable with what she believed he was about to do, because she was bleeding. The protest melted away into nothingness before the surge of need that exploded within her, as he placed a kiss upon her mound just above her nether lips. His hot breath washed over her sex, causing her to shiver uncontrollably. He hovered over her sex, drinking in the sight of her. Shaven bare, he could see ever crease and crevice of her folds — the pink line between them shimmering with wetness that was tinged slightly with crimson. For just a moment, he hesitated — unsure about putting his mouth on her in light of her cycle. Then the scent of her arousal — so close — overwhelmed him, and he lowered his face to taste her. Colette released a sharp, squeaking gasp as he lips touched her, kissing her nether lips as softy as he had first kissed the lips on her face. Then his tongue slipped between her folds, and inside her, causing her whole body to stiffen for a moment. Her legs parted wide of their own violation, allowing him better access to her. Tharsas moaned as his tongue swirled within her. The scent of her arousal was like a fog in his mind. Her bittersweet taste, accentuated with a metallic tang, drove him to plunge his tongue deep inside her, seeking more. His soft tongue, so different from her fingers, plunging inside of her and washing over her was the only thing in Colette's universe. Tingles flowed through her body in waves, the warmth in her loins increasing steadily to the familiar bonfire of passion that preceded her release. This time, she was not in control of that stimulation, and Tharsas held her there in that perfect place of ecstasy. Tharsas let his tongue flicker over her bud, causing Colette to yelp in pleasure. Despite how much he hated Lavina, some small part of him was glad that she had instructed him in how to pleasure her this way, because his heart swelled feeling Colette responding so strongly to his touch. As Tharsas' tongue began to tantalize her pleasure nub with ever-increasing frequency, Colette felt a throbbing pleasure begin to form deep within the hot glow between her legs. With each pulse, it swelled larger, mingling with the heat, and causing her to gasp. Her hips rocked upward with each swelling, and her pulse pounded in her ears. Then, the building pressure within her surged, making her feel as if she would burst. Her back arched up off the bed, and she grasped her breasts in her hands, whimpering from the almost painful swell of pleasure. Then the bubble burst. A scream tried to burst from her, but her throat would allow only a warbling, high-pitched croak to escape at first. When her pleasure finally gained voice, it was as a loud, musical sigh. Her back dropped to the bed, and her bottom rose up from it, pressing her sex against Tharsas' wonderful mouth. Her hands found his head, holding him against her, as jolts of pleasure shot up and down her spine. Tharsas moaned around her bud, which was suckled between his lips, as he tasted the warm flow of her juices washing over his tongue. He released her clit, and lapped up her flow. After a few moments the sounds of her breathing — fast, broken, and labored — caused him to pull away from her. Colette fought to bring air into her lungs. Her orgasm still held her tight in its grip, refusing the let her go. Just as she thought her heart would burst, and her lungs collapse, her climax snapped like an overstretched rope, and released her. Her bottom fell heavily to the bed and she gasped — sucking in a deep, welcome breath. Tharsas wiped her juices from his face, bringing them to his lips as he watched Colette come down from her peak. Her body writhed and rocked before him, her head lolling beyond her control. When at last her eyes opened, a smile of dreamy wonder crept onto her face. "I have never felt anything so wonderful, my love," Colette sighed, and then quivered as another little surge of pleasure rolled through her body. A painful throb from his manhood caused Tharsas to rise up and press it against his belly, closing his eyes. When he opened them, he saw Colette looking intently where his hand lay. He removed it and she shuddered. Colette looked up into his eyes. "Show me what it is to know a man," she whispered. If Tharsas were not already aching to be enveloped within her, those words would have instantly caused him to be so. Colette pulled a pillow under her, rising up so that she could see over her breasts, and parted her legs wide. Tharsas moved forward, feeling somewhat unsure, because he had never been in a position to be in control before. Colette watched him as he moved forward, her eyes locked on his cock, as it drew closer to her. At first, Tharsas attempted to penetrate her by positioning his hips, but had little success in finding the part of her labia that way. Lavina always guided him with her hand, and Tharsas reached down to do so. Holding his erection straight before him and watching, he managed to press the helmet of his cock against Colette's nether lips. Colette gasped. At last, she was on the verge of feeling what she had dreamed of so many times. Tharsas pushed his hips forward, wiggling his cock slightly to help it slide between her lips. Colette watched, fascinated, as the swollen head passed between her lips, and entered her. Tharsas sighed as he felt her velvety smoothness wrap around him. She was so warm — and so wet. His passion took over, and he started to push inside her, needing to be completely enveloped in her tight canal. Colette stiffened as he pressed forward, and let out a sharp, "Oh!" Tharsas stopped moving immediately, "Are you alright? Did I hurt you?" Colette smiled and said, "I'm okay. You are just so big my love — it stings a little. Be gentle with me, Tharsas." He nodded and started to push again — slower and with less force this time. He rocked his hips, pulling back slightly, then pressing inside deeper, slowly burying his cock in her tightly clinging depths. Colette was breathing hard, little whimpers escaping her as he filled her. There was pain in the sound, but also a great deal of pleasure. With a final push, Tharsas' jewels pressed up against Colette, his erection now squeezed tight between her walls along its entire length. Colette moaned and said, "You feel so good inside me." "You feel so good wrapped around me," He gasped back. "Make love to me," Colette moaned to him. Tharsas withdrew from her deeps slowly, her lips clinging to him as if trying to keep him inside her. His shaft was coated in her ruddy tinged juices, glistening in the faint light of the room. He pushed back inside her just as slowly, delighting in the feeling of her walls caressing his member. Tharsas began to rock his hips in this steady rhythm, not wanting to hurt her, and also fascinated by how much different this gentle lovemaking felt compared to Lavina's violent bouncing upon him. His eyes closed, and he became lost in the feeling — warmth rising to his cheeks and chest, as he penetrated her with measured thrusts. Colette's eyes were closed as well, and she too could sense nothing except the warm pleasure filling her, even as his hard manhood did. Her finger rubbed in slow circles over her clitoris, though she did not even remember moving her hand down to the bud. Time lost all meaning as they drifted in building arousal. She fit him like a glove, as if they were made for each other. Tharsas' speed increased, even though he had not consciously done so. His body was simply reacting to the unbelievable feeling of being caressed by her sex. Colette's fingers were also circling faster. They both gasped quietly each time he penetrated her and withdrew. Colette emitted small sounds of pleasure, her fingers now dancing over her clit. The sounds caused Tharsas to open his eyes and watch her. Her face was tight with ecstasy and flushed red, and her mouth was open in a silent scream. Even though he was not taking her hard, her large breasts jiggled slightly every time he pushed his cock home. Colette looked into his eyes and moaned, "Oh, Tharsas! I can feel it coming — so close. It feels so good." Again, the speed and power of his thrusts increased, and Colette trembled. "Oh gods! I-I'm almost... Oh yes — so good. So close, love," she moaned. Suddenly, Colette's eyes opened wide, and then rolled up to hide the irises. She drew in a long, broken breath, which was released as an even longer, high-pitched sigh of pleasure. Her back arched slightly off the bed, and her body began to shudder. Tharsas was buried in her depths, and paused there, feeling her walls contract tight around him as she came. Colette's fingers dug into the coverings of the bed, clenching them tight, and she emitted a soft, growling scream, as her climax held her suspended in sweet release. Colette's back dropped to the bed, as if all her strength had been expended in her orgasm. She rocked her hips upward in spastic thrusts, gasping for breath, and closing her eyes tight. Tharsas moved slightly to begin withdrawing from her, and Colette's eyes popped back open. "Take me, my love. Fill me," she gasped. He started to stroke her again — harder and faster than before. His ability to resist the urgent needs of his body was now gone. His long shaft thrust into her, pushing against her cervix. Colette gasped out each time his loins clashed into hers. Colette fought to keep her eyes open, alternating between watching him vanish inside her, and the ever-increasing look of ecstasy on his face. The building of her body toward another release took her by surprise, springing into being with absolutely no warning. Tharsas grunted and growled, nearly to his peak. Colette moaned to him, "Oh, I'm there again, love. Fill me — please!" Two hard thrusts later, he fulfilled her request. With a loud, gasping scream, he pushed hard on his already buried rod, and spurted thick streams of semen into Colette's depths. The feeling of his hot release inside her pushed Colette over the edge, and she came again. Tharsas collapsed atop her, gasping for breath. Colette kissed his neck softly and shivered beneath him whispering, "Thank you, my love." "You feel so good," Tharsas gasped out. "So do you, love," She replied, and wrapped her arms around him. They both closed their eyes and basked in the warmth of their joining, holding each other close, for quite some time. ------- Chapter 4 "What will we do Tharsas?" Colette asked, as she hooked the last button on her dress. "I'll talk to Vargas; he'll find some way to get us out of here. We'll go somewhere — anywhere — and be married." Colette's shy smile was radiant. "You mean it?" He walked over, and kissed her. The kiss was soft and relaxed, now that they had spent the built-up passion within them. "Yes, Colette, I mean it with all my heart. We'll leave this dark place, and begin a new life — together. I've considered leaving alone so many times that the choice to leave with you now, or to stay in this miserable place, is obvious." Colette put her hand on his cheek. "You should go, before Lavina and Mother return." Tharsas nodded, kissed her again, and then left the room — though all he wanted to do was stay forever. He immediately sought out Vargas, who smiled and rose to greet him, "Good evening, Young Master. Can I do something for you?" "Vargas, I'm leaving. Damn my birthright, damn this castle, and damn mother." Tharsas snarled the last word, as he always did. The old Chancellor smiled knowingly. "I trust Colette shall be going with you?" "How did you know?" Tharsas asked, with his eyes opened wide in surprise. Vargas chuckled, and patted Tharsas' shoulder. "My dear boy, I've known longer than you. Your father even suspected this was a possibility. There has always been something between the two of you, though you fought against it. You share no blood, and there is no shame, but your father and I knew Peronelle would never approve, nor would the people of the Barony. He asked me to make arrangements, should such ever be necessary." Tharsas absorbed what the other man had told him, amazed that the old man and his father had both thought he would fall in love with his stepsister. He then asked, "What arrangements?" "Your father has an estate to the South in Varn. It is far enough away that none there would know you, and the Baron is not part of the Federation. The estate generates considerable wealth, and Peronelle knows nothing about it. I have secreted coin over the years, to provide you with the necessary funds to travel there, as I suspected would be inevitable." Tharsas laughed, "Vargas, I understand more each day why my father could not live without you." "You shall be sorely missed, Young Master. I will carefully make the necessary arrangements for your travel, and I shall assist you in leaving undetected when they are complete," the old man said, with a wistful smile. "Thank you, Vargas. I must go tell Colette immediately." "Of course, Young Master, and be prepared with what you shall take. It will take a couple of days to make the preparations, but the time will be short to execute them, once they are in place. You must hide such from your stepmother and Lavina, as well." Tharsas impulsively hugged the old Chancellor. "Thank you again Vargas, I'll be prepared." Vargas waved him away. "Now go, so I can begin penning letters — and before I start to weep, in anticipation of missing you, and dear Colette." ------- The following days were like a ride on rough seas for the couple. The time they spent in their normal daily activities seemed to drag on and on, minutes feeling like hours. Tharsas wondered why he even bothered to go study with the Master, because he could concentrate on nothing, save Colette. By contrast, the time they spent packing up their most prized possessions, which they would take with them on their clandestine journey, flew by too quickly. There were too few free moments to round up everything they wished to take, and get it to Vargas — who packed it away, and secreted the bags in his own sparse chambers. Vargas hid away more than Tharsas and Colette's precious things. He also hid the couple away in his chambers, when they could steal away together for brief periods. The old Chancellor offered his own bed, as a place for them to spend their built up passion, in whirlwind encounters. On the morning prior to the gala Peronelle was hosting in the castle, Vargas informed the couple that they could leave, deep in the night. Tharsas had a perfect going away present for Peronelle and Lavina, one that brought a smile to Colette's face as well. Peronelle ordered Vargas, and those servants who were most loyal to him — and thus Tharsas' father — to remain in the servant's wing during the gala. Tharsas and Colette were not even thoughts in her mind, as she expected Colette would still be complaining of cramps, and Tharsas had not attended any public function in the castle for several years. The gala was the crowning jewel of the festivals, drawing the Barons of the Federation, and all others of wealth, like moths to the flame. They had begun arriving at mid-afternoon, and the party was now in full swing. Everywhere there were gowns of silk, imported at great expense from far-flung lands. Jewelry that could have ransomed entire villages adorned the wives of merchants, and their daughters. Wines of fine vintage, from near and far, arrived with each guest, as a donation to the festivities. Musicians played, while couples danced. Food and drink flowed freely, while Peronelle and Lavina circulated, mingling with the crowd. Peronelle stood near the entrance of the great hall speaking with one of the Federation Barons, who had only just arrived. He asked her, "Where is Chancellor Vargas this fine evening, Peronelle?" "I'm afraid the Chancellor is indisposed. He grows frail in his advancing years, and cannot long tolerate merriment I fear," Peronelle answered. "Will Lord Tharsas be joining us this evening? I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting the young Lord, since the death of your husband," the Baron continued. "I'm afraid he shuns such important functions, as he does all his duties my Lord. I doubt very much that we will see him." Outside the doorway, Tharsas smiled at the lovely woman on his arm. He and Colette then stepped into the great hall. Peronelle barely hid her scowl of irritation upon seeing the couple. Murmurs caused the revelers to turn and look at the pair standing in the doorway. Colette, blushing prettily under the stares of the room, was wearing a gown of crimson that accentuated her full, lush figure, but was perfectly reserved and demure. Tharsas was dressed in the highest of current style, a dark doublet, and hose — and cut a dashing figure as he held Colette's hand. His family crest, a symbol of his rank, was prominently displayed upon the doublet. Tharsas turned and nodded to Colette, releasing her hand. She curtsied, and then walked out into the room to mingle. Tharsas walked toward his stepmother and the newly arrived Baron, smiling because he knew how much he had already irritated Peronelle. He knew she would be beside herself, before this night was over. The Baron greeted Tharsas, "Welcome, Lord Tharsas. I was just asking after you." "You would be Lord Caedmon, I believe?" Tharsas extended his hand to shake with the other man, as he greeted him. Caedmon took the offered hand and said, "Indeed I am. It is good to see you this evening, and I am pleased to meet you at last. I only had the pleasure of being introduced to your father but once, before his unfortunate passing, but I see him in you." "I thank you for the compliment, Lord Caedmon," Tharsas said releasing the other Baron's hand. "Please enjoy the party, but I fear I must now go greet my other guests. Perhaps I will have time to speak with you more later." "I will look forward to the opportunity," He replied. "Mother," Tharsas said, and nodded — the required acknowledgement of his stepmother. He then went to mingle with the crowd. Tharsas was at his charming best, speaking knowledgeably about affairs of his Barony, and understanding the agreements between it, and the surrounding Baronies. He flattered the women, stunning the men and Lords with his knowledge, and wit — and generally became the focus of the attention for the entire room. He danced with women of all classes, at least as many as had been invited, which included only the highest of caste, showing he was quite adept in that skill as well. Only one segment of the crowd was not hanging on his every word, and those were hanging upon the words and shy blushes offered by Colette. She danced with Lord and merchant alike, a vision of loveliness, with a constant flush in her cheeks — her musical laughter echoing throughout the hall. Tharsas and Colette both stole glances at each other throughout the evening, careful not to let their eyes linger long, which would reveal the carefully masked emotion behind them. Peronelle and Lavina fumed, their ability to hide their growing anger apparently eroding as the night wore on. It amused Tharsas a great deal. Tharsas bowed to the blonde-haired merchant's daughter with whom he was dancing when the music stopped, and turned to find he was staring directly at Lavina. He stiffened — the confidence and amusement he had felt all evening draining away from him, in the face of his half-sister. "May I have this dance, Lord Tharsas?" Lavina asked, as the musicians started another song — sarcasm evident when she spoke the honorific. An encounter that had begun exactly this way was why Tharsas had stopped attending the galas, and all other public functions, some years ago. When last he had attended the gala, Lavina had dragged him out onto the dance floor, and whispered about what she was going to do to him that night throughout the dance, ordering him to reveal no hint of what she was saying. That night her advances had been particularly violent, and it had poisoned him for the festivities ever since. "I said — may I have this dance, my brother?" She asked again, when he simply stood frozen, and unable to answer. "I believe this dance was promised to me, sister," Tharsas heard Colette say from behind him. He turned, his fear draining away in the face of Colette's beauty. "Indeed, Colette, I have promised this dance to you," he said, taking her hand, and leading her toward the center of the floor, away from Lavina. As they danced, Tharsas whispered, "Thank you, Colette." "You're welcome, my love, I could see how disturbed you were," Colette whispered back, and then said aloud, "Are you enjoying the party, Lord?" "Indeed I am. I cannot remember when I have felt such joyful diversion," Tharsas replied, and saw Lavina still standing where they had left her, anger obvious on her face. The couple laughed, and continued to dance, enjoying the closeness, but wishing they could be even closer all the while. ------- As the party wound down, first Colette, and then Tharsas, begged the forgiveness of those who remained — saying they wished to adjourn for the night, before they consumed too much wine in their merriment. The remaining guests all thanked them for the wonderful party. Several of the Federation Barons approached Tharsas, and expressed their hope that he would attend a council they planned to call, soon. The implication was that they were impressed with him, and wanted to bring the matter of his inheritance to the table again. Tharsas strode through the halls toward his room with his back straight, and his chin held high. He had not felt like the Master of this castle in many years, and that was exactly how he felt now. As he passed the hall that would take him away from the center of the castle to his humble room, he glanced down the hall toward Colette's room. He wanted to go there, but knew such was impossible at the moment. Tharsas sighed, and continued to his room, there to prepare for their departure this evening. While he had briefly considered staying and fighting for his birthright, he knew that a relationship with Colette would never be tolerated. In choosing between the trappings of a Baron, and Colette, there was no real comparison. He would steal away with her this night, and be forever done with this land. Tharsas sat looking out his window, wide-awake, in anticipation of the hour when they would leave. The steady stream of people departing the castle had dwindled to a trickle, and then stopped, a couple of hours before. The faint sound of the party he had been able to hear, in this room so distant from it, had likewise vanished. The time was drawing near now, and his anxiety increased. A loud growl erupted from his stomach, startling him. He had been more active this night than he had in years, even counting his coupling with Colette, which was unfortunately mostly hurried after the first perfect time they had made love. He had eaten little during the evening, and his stomach was protesting that strongly. The thought occurred to Tharsas that it might be many hours before they could break their fast, so he decided to go quickly acquire some food in the kitchen to take with them on their journey — and a bite or two, to stop his stomach from growling now. He had plenty of time, even if he were forced to dodge his half-sister and stepmother. Creeping out into the halls, he found them empty. Usually one or two servants remained on duty, prepared to leap to any requests throughout the night. This night, he saw nobody sitting in the customary places. He could guess why, as the servants were often sent to the servant's wing, when his stepmother and Lavina planned to tryst with some Lord in the evening. The lack of the servants only served to help him avoid detection, as he crept toward the kitchen. As he passed the closed door to the sitting room that lay between him and his goal, he heard the sounds of a male voice, and Peronelle's voice within. Though he would not be here to pursue it, he was curious if this was the beginning of Peronelle attempting to undo the damage he had caused this evening — countering her years of lies. Looking up and down the hall, he quietly cast spells that would let him not only hear what was going on inside the room, but see it as well. The Baron, with whom Tharsas had seen his stepmother coupling, was once again in the room, though they were not in rut this time. The man raised a hand to his forehead with a groan, turned to face Peronelle, and spoke. "Per, I don't think there is any way we can turn this around. He was the epitome of charm, and noble bearing, this evening. It is simply too much of a sharp contrast, compared to what you have told the Federation all these years. They will call council, and I fear they will install him in the position that is his birthright." Peronelle swept a cup off the table at her side with a snarl, "NO! I will not let that little useless fuck take away what is mine! You will convince them that this council is useless — that he was simply engaging in another of his mad little fantasies." "I can try, but I fear it will be of no use. I have heard them talking, Per. They are impressed." Peronelle snarled, "I knew I should have murdered that useless little piece of filth when I poisoned his father!" Tharsas stared, dumbfounded. He heard the rest of the conversation, but it barely registered on his consciousness as the words, when I poisoned his father, continuously echoed through his brain. The Baron continued to talk, and his stepmother continued to shout, but Tharsas was holding his head, shaking it violently back and forth. The words just kept echoing in his head, mocking him, and assaulting him. Laughter, that of Lavina and his stepmother, sounded in loud bursts from the back of his head. Memories of Lavina's rapes insinuated themselves as well, along with flashes of his other humiliations. Tharsas squeezed his hands tight against his temples, clenching his teeth tight, and trembling. "You know the poison we used to stop his heart would have been too suspicious to have used on the younger Tharsas as well," the Baron replied. "Lavina is the only one who is worth continued breath. I should have suffocated that worthless, idealistic Colette years ago, like I did her father!" His stepmother's words cut through the cacophony in Tharsas' head. Tharsas stood straight up, snarling — his vision colored red with rage. He banished his magic with a growl, and kicked open the door. The two in the room were already looking toward the door when it burst open. They had heard his growl faintly through the door, and ceased talking to determine whether anyone was listening. "Get out, Tharsas," Peronelle growled. Tharsas' only response was to snarl the words of a spell, and send bolts of lightning leaping from his fingers, into the body of the Baron who had assisted in the murder of his father. The man slammed against the wall, and then slumped to the floor — smoke curling up from his clothing, and twitches wracking his body. Peronelle laughed and said, "Now you've done it! You've done my work for me! You'll be banished, or executed, for murdering a Baron!" Tharsas simply stared, and stalked toward her. "Get away, you mad little fuck! You can't touch me, and your pitiful magic is useless against me!" Peronelle raised her hand to display the ring there. Tharsas ignored her, suddenly leaping across the remaining distance between them. He grabbed the hand on which she wore the ring — his grip unnaturally strong, and fueled by his rage. Electricity crackled about his hand where he touched her, slowly spreading down his body. Tharsas ignored the smoke curling from the flesh of his hand, and his clothing. The electrical jolts, and the resulting pain, didn't even register in his mind. He grabbed the ring, and jerked it roughly off Peronelle's finger, hurling it across the room. As soon as the ring left her finger, the protective magic it had brought into being failed. Tharsas bent her wrist back with his blackened hand. His still smoking hand now wept pus, and blood as well. Drawing back his other arm, he backhanded his stepmother with all his strength, and shoved her to the floor. "Get away!" She screamed in terror. Again, Tharsas fell into his magic, entrapping his stepmother in a cage of arcane energy, which sent little sparks of electricity into her, wherever her skin was too close. She quickly huddled in the center of the cage, as the sparks assaulted her. "Mother!" Tharsas heard from behind him, and he spun on Lavina, who stared wide-eyed into the room. Tharsas erupted in a growling scream, and charged toward his hated half-sister. She screamed in terror — seeing his twisted expression, and blackened hand — and tried to back away, but tripped over her own feet. As she tried to scramble away, Tharsas leapt upon her, screaming in rage and pain, as the magic of her ring ripped through him. As he had with Peronelle, he ignored the pain, and tore the ring from Lavina's finger. The smoke, stinking of burnt flesh and hair, hung heavily in the room, mixed with the faintly sweet smell of ozone, caused by all the electricity that had been unleashed. Lavina stared in mute terror at her brother's ravaged face, unable to even think — let alone move, or scream. "How many times have you demanded I eat you — devour you? I will obey those commands one last time," Tharsas croaked. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Tharsas formed the gestures of a spell with his horribly burned hands. He forced the words past his dry, smoke stung throat, and the magic came into being. Lavina began to convulse beneath him, as his magic sucked her life from her, and transferred it to him. His blackened flesh turned pink, wounds sealed, and he felt his strength returning, as he sucked his hated sister dry. When the spell's magic faded away, Tharsas was sitting upon a dry husk, which was crumbling beneath his weight. He heard the sound of terrified screaming coming from behind him. Peronelle screamed, "What have you done? My darling! What have you done to my darling Lavina?" "I have taken her, as she has taken me all these years," Tharsas replied, and laughed as he stood, turning to face her. Peronelle started to edge away from him, but the magic of the cage forced her back to its center almost immediately. Restored to full vitality by the life he had drained from Lavina, Tharsas walked toward his stepmother — still laughing — and staring hard at her. He stopped before her cage, and spoke the words of a spell. As he completed the casting, he banished the magical cage around Peronelle with a thought. The huge, disembodied hand he had conjured scooped her up, and slammed her against the unyielding stone wall. Peronelle screamed in pain as her head cracked against the wall, then gasped and screamed again, as the hand continued to apply pressure. Tharsas tilted his head, and his lip twitched in a half smile, as he listened to Peronelle's scream trail off into a wheeze, the air being pushed from her lungs. He chuckled as he heard the cracks of her ribs breaking, and burst into gales of laughter as he heard the louder cracks of her other bones snapping, and her skull bursting. Waving his hand in a flourish, Tharsas banished the magic. His stepmother's corpse collapsed into a broken, twisted heap on the floor, at the foot of the wall. "You are avenged, Father," Tharsas whispered, as he stared at the pulped remains of Peronelle. He turned and walked out of the room, almost colliding with a frightened looking Colette, just outside the door. "Tharsas, I heard screaming. Your clothes are burned. What happened? Are you hurt?" The words burst from Colette in a rush, as she wrapped her arms around him, trembling in fear. "I'm fine, my love — and we're free. We don't have to run away now. We can stay here. I'll be Baron, and you'll be my wife — and damn any who dare to speak against it," Tharsas said, as he held her close, caressing her hair. Colette pulled back and looked at him, confused. "What do you mean? What happened, Tharsas?" Placing his hand on her cheek, he said, "They're gone, Colette. They will torment us no more, and they can't stand in the way of my birthright any longer. They killed our fathers, Love — they deserved it." Colette took a step back from Tharsas, and noticed smoke rolling out of the doorway. "What happened, Tharsas? Please tell me what happened," she pleaded. "I did what had to be done. Our fathers can rest in peace. We can live in peace. We are free, my love," Tharsas answered, stepping toward her. Colette backed away another step — seeing something new and frightening in his eyes. As she did, she passed in front of the door, and witnessed the carnage within. She covered her mouth, feeling bile surging into her throat, and stumbled down the hall, away from the door. The frightening look was still in Tharsas' eyes, as he walked slowly toward her. Tears welled up in her eyes. "Please, Tharsas, come back to me. You're not a crazy fuck like Lav..." Colette stopped, the name of her sister choked off by a gasp, as she realized the withered form she had seen on the floor had been wearing her sister's clothes. Anger surged up within Tharsas, upon hearing the name his stepmother and half-sister had so often called him. "Don't call me that," He growled. "Tharsas, please — oh please, come back to me," Colette sobbed. "DON'T CALL ME THAT!" Tharsas screamed. ------- Tharsas sat up in bed with a scream, his body drenched in sweat. A startled Vargas stood at the bedside. "It is me, Lord Tharsas." "Vargas — where am I?" Tharsas mumbled, and tried to rub sleep out of his eyes. "In your chambers, my Lord. You must dress, and prepare for the funeral, Tharsas." His head throbbed, and his thoughts felt like they were slogging through cold molasses. Vargas helped him dress, and led him from the room. Tharsas stumbled along in a zombie-like state — barely aware of what he was doing — aided in his steps by a concerned looking Vargas. They walked into the great hall, and Tharsas saw coffins in the center of the room. He smiled as memories drifted back into his befogged brain. Peronelle and Lavina were dead — by his hand. His father had been avenged. He smiled and chuckled under his breath, walking toward the coffins. The boxes were nailed tightly shut, and he knew why. The pulped remains of his stepmother, and the dried husk that was all which remained of Lavina would be horrific to see. He smiled as the fog in his brain slowly lifted. It was then that he noticed the third coffin. "Why are there three?" He mumbled in confusion. "You must observe the proprieties, my Lord, regardless of your feelings for Lavina and Peronelle." "Why are there three?" He reiterated, louder this time, and stalked toward the coffin. This one was not nailed shut, and he hurled open the lid. He backed away, the memories assaulting him. "Tharsas, it's me, Colette. Please, my love, you're frightening me." The sound of fear in her voice snapped Tharsas back into reality. "Colette — I'm sorry. Peronelle — she killed your father... Killed my father. She was going to kill us too. I had to stop her." "But, Lavina, and so horrible..." Colette sobbed. "Lavina forced me to have sex with her, constantly, and the pain from those rings... I couldn't think. I just reacted, and used my magic to stop them." Remembering what he had done sickened him, and he turned to empty his stomach into the floor. As he coughed and gagged, Tharsas felt Colette's hand on his back. "I understand, my love. I know your heart, and I know you couldn't do this, if you knew what you were doing." Tharsas stood and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, as he turned back to her. "They'll never accept us, Tharsas. We'll have to hide our love, if we stay here," Colette said softly. "I don't care what they think," Tharsas mumbled. He looked into her eyes, and found that his anger drained away fully. Colette's eyes suddenly opened wide. She screamed, "Tharsas!" and then shoved him. Catching himself, Tharsas turned and stared in horror. The Baron, his skin blackened, and half of his body limp, stood between the two young nobles. The man stumbled back, and Tharsas saw the bloody dagger, as well as the quickly spreading wet spot on Colette's gown. Tharsas screamed, and lashed out with his fist — hitting the man in the back of the head. The disfigured Baron stumbled into the wall, and let out a gurgling groan — dropping the bloody dagger. Tharsas snatched it up, and stabbed the man in the chest with the weapon. He released the dagger, as the Baron sank to the floor. At the same time, Tharsas heard a whimper of pain, and the sound of another body slumping to the floor. "Colette!" He screamed, as he turned to see her clutching the wound in her breast — her eyelids fluttering, and her breath ragged. He knelt down next to her, and cradled her in his arms. "Colette — I'll get help. Hold on!" "T-Tharsas? I'm so glad y-you're all right. I'm s-so cold, Love. I lo..." She went limp in his arms. Tharsas stumbled back from the coffin, his eyes locked on Colette's pale corpse inside. He backed into the wall, cracking his head, and darkness consumed him. ------- He stood staring, seeing nothing happening before him, remembering the last few months. He had concocted a story about the Baron going mad and killing his family, when Vargas came upon him cradling Colette's corpse in his arms. The old man had believed the story, and wept with Tharsas for the pale blonde woman in his arms. Somehow, Tharsas had survived the funeral. Colette was buried in her flower garden, where she had always been happy. Tharsas kept a lock of her hair secreted on his person, at all times. Peronelle and Lavina he had personally buried in the location of the old jakes. There, they would be forever entombed — within the befouled earth — where they belonged. He had told Vargas to continue managing the Barony. He knew the man would ensure coin from the coffers was available, whenever he needed it. "We have them," a gruff voice arose from next to him. Snapped from his memories, he turned to see the scruffy bandit who had spoken. Behind the man were several more filthy men — each one holding a bound person upright. The captives' were the family of Peronelle's conspirator in his father's murder — women, and children not excluded. "Kill them," He said, and watched as all the captives throats were cut. At last, he felt a measure of satisfaction, and closure. Turning back to the mirror in front of him, he watched as an Orc grunted over the body of a limp woman, spilling his seed inside her. The sounds of women screaming were mixed with the echoes of men and monsters grunting and laughing. The sounds echoed from elsewhere beyond the range of his mirror's vision. Absently, he reached into his pocket, and withdrew a crimson marble, as he watched the Orc withdraw from the woman, to be replaced by another. He tossed the marble over his shoulder, and an enormous boom sounded behind him. This was followed by a wave of heat that flowed around the magic protecting him, and the mirror. Turning, he saw the blackened bits of the dead bandits through the smoke. He returned his gaze to the mirror, and pulled the focus of the mirror back, until he could see the whole of the keep from the outside. Pulling forth a larger crimson sphere, etched all over its surface with spidery sigla, he spoke a word of command. In the mirror, he saw great gouts of flame erupting from every opening in the keep. Stones flew, stones fell — and the structure was soon burning out of control. Nothing living had likely survived the initial blasts, and he knew — with certainty — that none would escape the burning, collapsing structure if they had. A word of command caused the mirror to go dark, and shrink down to the size of a coin. He pocketed the item, and turned to look at the sunset. Tharsas Witharten was dead. Though his body lived, all that he had been was gone. That was all buried with his hated stepmother and half-sister — and his beloved Colette. In his place stood a new man — a stronger man than the one who had once occupied this body. The phrase, from which he had taken his new name, translated to The God King Ascendant in the common tongue. Zoraster Arias turned from the sunset, and walked into the descending darkness. ------- The End ------- Posted: 2006-07-30 Last Modified: 2007-03-23 / 08:30:49 am ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------