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The twins must go their separate ways to stop both the Paladonic Knights and Jessica.

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Chapter 25

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Murphey’s Law

Eldon paced the hallway, his girlfriend and new wife watching him. They’d changed out of the wedding clothes and into more comfortable apparel while Shelly was carted off to this deliver room. His twin sister was screaming in agony. What were they doing to her? Couldn’t someone relieve her pain? Why were their parents sitting there like this was normal? No one should ever have to suffer that much! Shelly was a strong woman and could handle a lot, but she sounded like she was dying in there.

And then she went silent.

That seemed even more ominous after the agonized screams. Was Shelly okay? Did something happen with the pregnancy? Why wouldn’t anyone tell them what was going on?

“Sheldon,” his mom addressed him, “for the last time, sit down. You’re making everyone else nervous.”

“How can you just sit there, mom?” he shot back as he continued to walk the corridor. “I’ve never heard her scream in that much pain before. Shouldn’t Gaia, or the doctor, or someone do something to help her?”

“Women can take a lot of pain,” Sheila said, her voice somehow calm. “Your sister is a strong woman, and—” She cut off as the door opened, and the short little goblin doctor walked out.

The doctor had on what was once a white smock and apron but was now covered in various fluids that made Eldon sick, knowing where they must have come from.

As if to belie the words she’d just spoken, Sheila stood and rushed towards the goblin woman. “Is she okay? How did it go? Why won’t you say anything?”

“Slave!” Lyden’s voice cut her short. “Let the doctor speak.”

For the first time in Eldon’s memory, it looked like Sheila Lance was going to argue back with her master. But after a moment, she nodded with a glare and turned back to wait.

“The birthing went well enough, and the mother is resting,” she said. She had to look up at everybody as she spoke. Eldon didn’t know many goblins, but this one seemed short, even for one of her race. “You’ll be able to go in and see her in a moment. She is currently feeding the child. It is a healthy baby.”

Eldon didn’t care two wits about the baby but was glad that his twin sister was okay.

“A baby… what?” Lyden asked. He’d gotten to his feet and stood behind his slave, holding her in his arms.

The doctor didn’t get the chance to answer, though, as Areth zipped out of the room, grinning from ear-to-ear. No one had seen her enter the delivery room.

“Well, it definitely is part of your family,” she said with a smile. For some reason, she glanced at Bridget. “It’s both a boy and a girl.”

“Twins?” Sheila and Lyden spoke at once.

Twins?! Sheldon thought with a bit of shock. No wonder Shelly was in so much pain. Except, the way the doctor had spoken, it didn’t sound like there was more than one baby. Could it be like Brock and Bridget? Two genders switching with one body?

“Nope!” Areth chuckled. The disgruntled doctor turned and walked back into the delivery room, ignoring the gleeful fairy as she muttered under her breath. “It’s both, but not like her.” this was said as she pointed at Bridget. “It’s male and female at the same time. Really cute baby, and I should know what cute is! By the way, that metal lady in there is really cranky!”

Eldon assumed that she was referring to Sonia as the metal lady, and didn’t blame her for being upset with the fairy. Areth took some getting used to and was definitely an acquired taste.

Eldon moved to enter the room, but of all people, Areth zipped up to block him. She even grew to a normal size when he tried to brush her away.

“Your sister is in no condition to accept visitors,” the fairy intoned, sounding more like Sonia than herself. Something has been off about the golden pixie since her resurrection. She seemed more serious and less playful, though, by any other standards, she was still very annoying.

Eldon opened his mouth to argue with her and demand the little pipsqueak let him through to see his sister, but a slender hand on his arm calmed him down.

“Love,” Mandy’s voice said behind him, “let’s give her some time to recover. Meanwhile, we have our own celebrating to do?”

He would have turned and argued with her as well, but the way she asked that as a question, and the way her sweet voice cut through his emotions to remind him how much she meant to him, calmed him down.

He turned to face his wife—his wife!—and gave her his best smile. “You’re right,” he said, grabbing a pair of her hands in his own. “We should…” He looked over her shoulder at Shlee, who started shaking her head. “You and I should go celebrate. I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to be married to such a wonderful woman.”

It was true, too, and not maltepe escort just because he couldn’t lie in her presence. He loved her and found it more than a bit exciting to know that she was his wife.

“My dear husband,” she grinned at him, showing off her white teeth. Two of her arms slipped around his neck while the other two moved to his hips. “I plan on seeing if I can wear you out.” Her cheeks colored slightly as she looked around at their family, realizing that her own ability had backfired on her.

“What do you two think you’re going to do?” Alloria demanded, looking haughty and upset, her hands on her hips and her eyebrows creating a deep furrow between them as she glared at the newlyweds.

For a split second, Eldon thought they’d made a mistake, and he was being inappropriate in front of his family but shook it off. “Being married!” he told her with his cheesiest grin. Without waiting for any kind of a rebuttal, he scooped up his bride and carried her down the hallway.

He noticed Alloria grimace at them as he carried his blushing bride away, but also saw the gleam in her eyes.

Gaia had prepared an exclusive suite for the newlyweds, and it was to this room that he brought Mandy. The entire walk, she’d covered his face with kisses, and spoke whispers of what she was going to do to him once they were alone. She had him thoroughly aroused by the time he reached their door. It was almost a little weird, having the ability to grow hard again, instead of being permanently stiff, and he enjoyed it.

He kicked the door closed behind him. Mandy surprised him as she wriggled free from his arms and pressed her lips to his. His back hit the door as their kiss intensified. Two of her hands pressed against his shoulders, while her other set worked at his pants.

He groaned as his manhood became free, and her strong hands caressed his twisted length. His arms wrapped around her, pulled her firm body tight against him. Her arms at his shoulders wrapped around his neck as their tongues met.

A small portion of his mind worried that he’d struggle to perform. This was his first time since giving up his permanent body to restore Areth, and he no longer had the perma-boner. But it was only a small portion, as much of his blood was supplying oxygen to his second brain.

He moved to pick Mandy back up and carry her to their luxurious bed, but she shook her head and pushed back from him. She met his questioning look with a devilish grin. Placing her upper hands against his shoulders again, she lowered her body until she was kneeling before him. One of her knees rested between his legs, right on his pants, so he pulled his legs out.

She grinned up at him, licking her lips before leaning forward and nuzzling his shaft. He brought his right hand down and caressed her dirty blonde hair. She purred for a moment longer, then opened up to let her tongue out to trace along the curves of his shaft.

It was Eldon’s turn to moan, enjoying the sweet feeling of her talented tongue. A moment later, his breath caught as she opened wider and swallowed the head between her lips. He felt her skilled mouth work his tip, moving along the sensitive rim and eliciting even more moans from him.

Too soon, however, she stopped and pulled back. Eldon was about to complain, but it turned into a yelp when her four arms moved to pick him up and carry him to the bed. He couldn’t help but chuckle as she literally threw him onto the lush comforter and gave him a hungry look.

“Don’t think for a minute that just because I’m your wife, I’m going to become some docile cow, ready to make you a sandwich at a moment’s notice,” she said as she crawled onto the bed with him.

The mattress must have been made out of clouds and angel feathers; it was so soft, and yet firm enough to support them.

“The day I consider you docile, have my head examined,” he replied with a broad grin. Then he glanced at his crotch and added, “Both heads. Besides, if I’d wanted a soft wife, pliable and weak, I would have stayed far away from you. I prefer my women—no, my partners—to be capable and smart. With you, I just happened to get lucky enough to get good looks, sense of humor, level headed, and a talented lover added to the mix.”

“Oh, you know how to sweet talk a woman,” she cooed.

“Sweet talk, nothing,” he argued back. “I’m just honest—Oh!” He cut off as she took him back into her mouth.

Never being a selfish lover, he adjusted himself so that he could move underneath her. She gave an appreciative moan as he brought his lips to her nether-set and licked along her folds. He had to concentrate on pleasing her, trying to ignore the bliss she was giving him, lest he cum too soon. He hadn’t had sex on his mind with his sister giving birth, but now that they were in the middle of foreplay, it was all-consuming.

He concentrated on her clit, using every skill he knew to manavgat escort entice her towards her first orgasm. He sucked on her labia, used the tip of his tongue to swirl around her clit, or shove it into her hole, enjoying her taste. It became a race to see who would cum first, and he was determined to be the second across that line.

But the way she was moaning around his thick shaft, and her method of alternating her rhythm of bobbing, and the skill with which she incorporated two hands on his length, one on his scrotum, and the last tracing lightly along his inner thighs drove him ever closer.

She was the first to tense up and start shuddering, though. Eldon was rewarded with a guttural moan from her as she pulled her lips from him and road her orgasm, shaking atop him. He doubled down on his attentions, trying to make her climax last until she finally had to roll off him.

He turned and pounced on top of her, waiting for her to meet his gaze before he spoke. “I hope you know that just because you’re my wife, I don’t intend to slack off on making you as happy as I can, as often as I can.”

“I’m such a lucky woman,” she panted before pulling him down into a kiss. “Now, fuck your wife until she can’t think straight,” she ordered when they came up for breath. She emphasized her command by placing two hands on his hips and pulling them towards her.

His angle was wrong on the first attempt, and he ended up bumping hard against her magic button, making her shudder before he could realign. This time, when he pressed forward, he felt her velvety lips kiss his tip, then part to allow him entrance. She was as tight as she always was, and they groaned in unison as they became one. One heart. One soul. One love.

He set a steady rhythm, propping himself on one arm as he gazed into his wife’s soft brown eyes. He marveled at how she could look so sweet and yet so seductive as she bit her bottom lip. Or at how much it turned him on as her eyes fluttered every time he hit bottom.

Soon her hands were encouraging him to increase his pace. He dropped his head to suckle on one of her stiff nipples, arching his back to get more force into each thrust.

He was once again climbing towards his own end, and from the way she was meeting his thrusts with her hips, gripping his arms and waist, and making soft panting noises, he knew she was close also.

Then she gripped him, stopping him from moving altogether, and spoke. “I want to have a kid, Eldon. Get me pregnant?”

It took a moment for her words to sink in. She wanted to get pregnant? Now? Wasn’t there already enough going on in their lives?

Or perhaps, that was reason enough to procreate. Eldon couldn’t deny that the thought appealed to him. Just thinking about pumping her full of his potent seed, placing a child within her belly turned him on. In fact, if anything, he felt himself getting harder within her tight canal.

He heard her talking, trying to convince him of why she should get pregnant, but he ignored her. Not out of malice, or anything negative, but because he couldn’t think of words to voice the welling of love and devotion that welled up in his chest. Instead, he returned to kissing her and moving inside her.

The small break had given him a respite from cumming. He pulled out of his wondrous wife and rolled her onto her stomach. Rear lifted up as he aimed to re-enter. As he did so, he brought one hand under her to cup one full breast, thumbing her turgid nipple and leaned in to whisper into her ear.

His hips set a steady, forceful rhythm as he plunged into her again and again. His stiff cock drove against the front of her vaginal canal as he spoke the words he knew she wanted to hear.

“You want to carry our child?” he asked, his voice low and pitched for her ears alone. “You want me to pump you full of my seed? Cum inside you and place a child into you?” She managed to nod as she mewled her pleasure. He didn’t know if his words were affecting her as much as they were him, but he could feel her tightening her slick walls as he provoked her. “I can’t wait to see you carrying my child. Our child. The thought of you pregnant makes my cock harden even more. You feel that? Feel how hard I am at the thought of our child in your belly? I’m close, my brilliant wife. I’m going to fill you with my seed, and… and…” He trailed off as his mind flipped off. He was about to do as they both wanted.

“Oh, fuck!” Mandy gasped as she came once again. Her body managed to somehow become limp and rigid at the same time. Her insides squeezed him hard, and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

As he fired off his ejaculate into her welcoming uterus, he concentrated on making them as potent as he could. He wanted to get her pregnant. He wanted to have something to show to the world that he was alive. And no matter what dangers they may shortly face, he wanted to know that his legacy şişli escort would carry on.

* * * *

Gaia met them as they rejoined the others, a broad smile gracing her dark lips. Without waiting for permission, she glided up to Mandy and placed her hands on the four-armed woman’s belly.

“Best to ensure that things start out safe from the beginning,” she said, closing her eyes and concentrating.

Dread struck Eldon at those words. He hadn’t even considered the dangers of having a mixed-breed child. Considering that both Mandy and he were mixed-breed, did that make it more dangerous, or did that mitigate them? What would he do if Gaia determined that their child would be a danger? It was what happened to his late stepmom’s—Becky’s—children. And why his dad and only remaining human wife never had children after the first couple attempts.

He looked at his new bride and saw the same fears reflected there. Fear that only grew as Gaia’s hands roamed across her abdomen and the Pillar of Earth frowned and continued to concentrate. Sweat beaded on the powerful woman’s brow as she continued to work.

No one dared speak, and Eldon realized that everyone was watching them. His father was holding his mother, fear and worry in their gazes. Shlee looked like she wanted to approach them, but didn’t dare. And Alloria looked angrier than he’d ever seen her.

“Wow,” Gaia said, breaking the tension and wiping her brow with the back of her hand. “It’s a good thing I was here before any of your sperm reached the egg!”

Eldon opened his mouth to speak but realized that his throat was dry, and he only managed to croak.

It was Lyden who managed to speak first. “So, you were able to make sure the child will be okay?”

“Yes,” Gaia said, and there was a definite slump to her shoulders as she spoke. “I had to kill off over half of his semen, as they were incompatible with her egg, but all the remaining should provide viable offspring.”

“Will it be a boy or a girl?” Eldon finally found his voice.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Gaia snapped at him. “Didn’t you hear me say the sperm hasn’t reached the egg yet? Now, Lyden, I promised to be more considerate to you and your wives, but that drained a lot of strength from me. Considering that I just did your family a huge favor, would you mind—”

Lyden coughing cut her short. Eldon noted the way his mom frowned, but she pushed her master forward. “Get her charged up,” Sheila Lance said. “But don’t enjoy it too much.”

Eldon understood what was being asked of his father, but chose to ignore it.

“Thank you, Gaia,” Mandy gushed, grabbing the other woman by both hands. “How can we ever repay you?”

“You can get out of my way so I can get my recharge,” Gaia snapped. Apparently, when she was this tired, she was ornery. “And you can ensure that my job doesn’t get any harder, and take care of Jessica when you get the chance.”

Before anyone could say anything more, the Pillar of Earth grabbed Lyden in one hand, and Sheila in the other, dragging them from the hallway.

“Has anyone gotten to see or talk to Shelly yet?” Eldon asked, glancing at the door leading to his sister’s room.

“She’s asleep right now,” Megan said. Eldon did a double-take, having not seen her. Though how he could miss the redhead sitting there, he didn’t know. She wore a new white blouse, and a tight pair of denim jeans, and was… Why was she here?

“What are you still doing here?” he asked, trying to sound curious, rather than annoyed that she was still around. Didn’t she realize that he wasn’t really interested in her?

“You’re about as tactful as Areth is when she’s trying to seduce our father,” Mei said. She leaned against one wall, arms folded under her breasts, shaking her head. Her horns knocked against that wall as she looked up and around, a wry twist to her lips. “Speaking of which, where did she go?”

“She chased after your dad,” Shlee said, sniffing the air. “That little pixie looked quite excited to join in their fun.”

Eldon shook his head, annoyed. He was glad that Areth was back, but he’d forgotten how much trouble she could cause. And the conversation had gone away from his original question about his sister.

“So, Shelly is doing okay?” he pressed, more worried about her than anything else.

Shlee came up to him, sensing or smelling his concern, and gave him a mighty hug. He took a moment before he returned the embrace. While intellectually, he understood why she’d turned down his marriage proposal, he still felt rejected. She’d done her best to alleviate that, but he couldn’t help the way he felt. He still loved her and knew he had no right to press his emotions onto her, and so tried to be as supportive as he could.

“Your sister and the baby are both doing fine,” the werewolf informed him. “The doctor let your mom and dad in, and no one can seem to stop Areth from doing as she pleases, but the rest of us have waited out here.”

He didn’t care much about the baby. Maybe that made him callous, but the thing was the offspring of King Aecus and the product of rape. As long as Shelly was okay, that’s all that mattered.

The tiny goblin doctor poked her head out and stared at him. “Shelly is awake and asking to see her family. Where are your parents, young man?”

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Morning of Day One – Julie

Julie felt great. Better than she had in years. In fact, she didn’t know if she’d ever felt like this at all. She assumed that she probably felt better day to day as a teenager, but didn’t know any better at the time. She didn’t even realize how bad she had been feeling until after taking the pill. The general fatigue, the clogged sinuses, the slight ache to everything that had started around twenty-eight — all of it gone, like an invisible weight taken away. And she smiled for it. Standing in the garden, grinning at her flowers in the sun like a half mad woman.

Of course, she hadn’t really noticed until after the morning’s time with Stan. That thought made her a little uncomfortable and the smile drooped slightly as she went to work digging roots out of a clod of dirt. She’d woken up unable to think of anything other than sucking her husband’s dick. Well, not anything. She could still think, but the idea intruded on her constantly. Busying herself hadn’t helped at all. The second she stopped focusing on whatever menial task she set herself, the idea of Stan’s dick in her mouth popped right back into her head. Her lips wrapping around the head, his body tensed and eager under her touch, moving in the perfect motion up and down while working her tongue along the length until that —.

Julie’s skin was warm. She lied to herself and said it was the sun. But it was hard to deny the feeling between her legs or her watering mouth. Wasn’t that the point though? The pill was meant to light a fire on their reproductive drives and it was certainly succeeding in doing that. But something about the way it just grabbed control of her entire body made Julie resent it. Sure Stan likes the idea of waking up to a blowjob this morning, but how far does that go. What if the pills turned her into a cum drunk slut by the end of the week? Starting a family together was supposed to be a mutual decision of love. Not just wild fucking day in and day out. So, no, even if she did want to rip off her shorts and go pin her husband to the kitchen table, Julie resolved herself to maintaining some level of decorum.

The patio door opened and Stan stepped outside. He wore a decade old Metallica t-shirt for a concert that he never went to. Stan had a way of attracting t-shirts only somewhat offset by Julie’s tendency to appropriate them for herself. He held up a power drill and buzzed it. “Where’s the pot?”

Julie pointed at the worktable under the eave. “You need to use water to keep the drill bit cool, remember?”

He waved his hand dismissively as he picked up the ceramic and positioned it on the workbench. After some fiddling he had everything the way he wanted, then stopped with a long sigh. He put down the drill and went inside, returning with a glass of water that he poured over the base of the upturned pot. Then, he set to work drilling. His arm flexed while he applied the pressure to the drill and in turn his right side tensed as well. In shorts, Julie could see his legs strain and his nearly flat butt tense as he tried to hold everything in place. She cursed under her breath and wished her hands were clean so she could touch herself.

“Ah, fuck,” Stan said as the drill bit broke through. He wiped away the water and dust. “No, we’re good. Worked just like I meant it to. All in the wrist, they say.” He brought the pot over to her with a wide grin on his face. “That the last thing?”

No, I want to suck your dick again. “Yeah, until I think of something else.” Stan had been unusually productive in helping her that morning. He’d dug out the flowerbed that they’d been ignoring for months, trimmed back the hedges, cleaned off the patio and the grill, and a half dozen other chores that Julie had pointed out while she weeded and replanted. Clearly the pill had made him feel a little better as well. “I’m making us salad for lunch, but I still have a little to do first.”

“Just salad?” he asked. “I’m craving…something. Meatier.”

Julie turned away from him as the thoughts intruded once again. I’m like a horny teenager for pity’s sake. “We’re having tenderloin for dinner. That’s all the meat you need for today.”

“Can we put some of those ham bits in the salad? I’m seriously craving it. Stomach growling kind of craving it. Rabbit food won’t cut it.”

“Fine, you can have ham and bacon in your salad. Satisfied?”

“Oh, you can satisfy me any time,” he said, leaning down and kissing her on top of the head. It took every ounce of her will to stop from turning around, yanking his shorts off, and sucking him into her mouth. Maybe another cold shower would help.

“After lunch, I might run up to the hardware store,” she said. “I’m low on potting soil.”

“I can do that if —”

“No, no. You enjoy your time off. I want to get out of the house a little bit, I think. You know, before those ‘flu symptoms’ set in.” She said it with a wink, hoping he would take the hint and drag her inside to fuck her brains out. No. Come on Julie. izmir escort Stan had his hands on his hips and she could see the outline of his cock in his shorts. He wore those shorts all the time, how had she not noticed before. Or maybe it wasn’t like that before. Maybe he was half hard and waiting. JULIE! Control yourself.

“I might go for a run,” Stan said. “After lunch, I mean. Have a weird amount of energy. Not sure I can just sit around. Little exercise should work it out. Then maybe a nap. Somehow I’m energetic and tired at the same time. That doesn’t make sense does it?”

Julie just shrugged and he walked back inside. She let out a long breath and tried to focus on the plant in her hands.

***

Lunch and the trip to the hardware store went by without incident. It became much easier to focus on things other than sex when Stan wasn’t around. The further she got away from all things Stan, the clearer her head felt. She wasn’t sure if it was the drugs or just her old fashioned attraction to her goofy husband. Indulging in the freedom from her rampant sex drive, she wandered to the least sexual place she could find, the plumbing section where the various models of toilets were on display. A few deep breaths cleared away the rest of her pent up sexual energy and let her enjoy browsing the garden center before hoisting a bag of soil on her shoulder and heading back to her car.

Then it started to creep back in. Where would he be when she got home? Would he be back from his nap, waiting on the couch all sweaty and hot? Maybe he’d have taken his shirt off during the run. Stan would never display his pale, flabby middle-aged torso outside and rarely enough inside, but that didn’t make the fantasy any less possible to Julie. She’d wondered while they ate lunch together if he was having the same urges that she was, but he didn’t seem unusual in anything other than his appetite. He’d eaten his salad in a frenzy and then made himself a sandwich while she nagged at him about sodium. Maybe, as a man, he was just more accustomed to dealing with a higher sex drive. Before work took all his energy, he’d been quite the amorous partner.

Julie put the car in the garage and lugged out the soil, dropping it in a corner where she kept her gardening supplies. She paused a moment and smoothed out her clothes. Briefly, the wild thought of stripping to the waist entered her mind. She could stride into the living room with her breasts pushed out and crawl onto Stan’s lap, shoving them in his face. If that doesn’t get him to notice how fucking horny I am, I don’t know what will. Again, though, she pushed the idea aside.

None of it mattered though. Stan wasn’t back from his run yet. She checked every room of the house while calling his name. His absence left her crestfallen, but a new idea came to her. That morning, she hadn’t thought much beyond getting Stan’s cock in her mouth, but now she wanted something inside her just to stave off the feeling for a while. She went to the master bedroom closet and started digging through the piles of boxes, quilts, and bags at the back. She muttered to herself while she looked and yelped with excitement when she spotted the striped bag she was looking for. Carrying it back to the bedroom as though it were an illicit jewel, she called out for Stan once again, no answer coming, and then opened the bag.

Inside were a variety of sex toys from what seemed like a different life to her now. A few frilly nighties shoved off to one end, a pair of handcuffs with a broken lock, a bottle of lube, a rubber ring that Stan had worn once when she dared him, and the bounty she had been looking for, four dildos. She brought the out and laid them on the bed one at a time. The first was a short purple colored vibrator that felt light without batteries. The second was a larger personal massager that had its cord still wrapped around it. The third was another handheld vibrator with a small clit stimulator on it. And the fourth was a gag party favor given to her at a bachelorette party, a silicone cock and balls with a suction cup on one end. The bride-to-be had gotten drunk enough to stick one on the wall of a bathroom and mime fucking herself while moaning her fiance’s name into a video call. Julie had been mortified at the time, but now found herself wondering if Stan had taken his phone with him.

With the four dildos laid out, she eliminated the battery users immediately, shoving them back in the bag and making a mental note to find batteries later. With the choice being between the massager and the other, she gravitated toward the one that actually looked like a dick. She realized that she didn’t want to just get off, she wanted to get properly fucked by something. Biting her lip, she tucked the massager away and shoved the bag under the bed. The dildo came with her into the bathroom where she thoroughly washed it, all the while muttering to herself about being an idiot. A few times she stopped and strained kahramanmaraş escort her ears for the sound of Stan moving around in the house. He’d never seen her use a dildo and she had no intention of changing that today.

It’d become one of her rules at some point and she couldn’t remember exactly why. Maybe she read something about men getting a deep, psychological jealousy about seeing their partner pleasure themselves with something phallic. If they weren’t into it, that was, and Julie had no reason to believe that Stan was into seeing her fuck herself with a plastic dick. With her cleaning done, she put the dildo under her shirt and went back into the bedroom. Before crawling into the bed, she unbuttoned the jeans she’d worn to the hardware store and stepped out of them. Her panties could easily be pulled to the side and the whole show could be hidden under the covers. If Stan came in, she could just shove the fake dick under her pillow until he left the room. She got into position with her heart thudding in her chest and her eyes fixed on the door. Her paranoia and anxiety aside, she was going half wild with need. As she pulled aside her panties, she noted how wet they were and wondered when she’d stopped noticing her own arousal.

Julie ran the plastic cockhead up and down her wet lips, coating the rubber in her arousal. Her free hand slid under her shirt and started to make small circles around her nipples. The sensations would cause her eyes to squeeze shut, but she forced them back open to keep an eye on the door. Applying a little pressure, she moaned as the wet dildo pushed against her opening. She spread her legs a little wider, giving herself a little more room to work. After a few seconds, the head of the dick slipped inside of her and she let out a guttural groan of pleasure. She didn’t even need to slide it out as her pussy gushed with wetness, coating each inch of the thing as it slid inside her. Her leg muscles shook and her body clenched as little waves of pleasure radiated out from her core. She’d already had a pair of orgasms that day and somehow this one came even easier than those.

As the pleasure subsided, she knew it wasn’t enough. She didn’t want a hunk of plastic. She wanted Stan. She wanted to feel him throbbing inside of her. Wanted to feel the heat of his body pressing against her as his breath shortened and the small grunts of pleasure came unbidden from his lips. She wanted his eyes to flutter open for brief moments to look down at her heavy breasts and maybe even steal a glance down between their arching bodies to see his cock sliding into her pussy. As she fantasized, she worked the dildo in and out of her at a steady rhythm, the pleasure building up with strange rapidity once again. Her fingers flicked lightly over her exposed nipple. She imagined Stan’s lips closing around the nub and circling it with his tongue, as milk squirted into his mouth.

What the fuck. As her thoughts jammed together in confusion, her body rocked with another orgasm. It took a full minute for her to recover. The dildo slid out of her with a wet slurp. What the hell was that about? Do I have some kind of fucked up mother fetish now? Jesus. Maybe we should stop these pills. Her eyes went to the dresser, sudden panic gripping her body. Were the pills gone? Would they actually not be able to take them? No, they remained where she’d left them the night before.

“Hon?” Stan called from the front door.

In a quick panic, Julie pulled up her panties, grimacing slightly as the cold wetness on them pressed against the warm wetness between her thighs. She pushed the dildo under the pillow and swung herself out of bed, grabbing a pair of shorts from nearby and slipping them on just as Stan entered the bedroom. She smiled at him, silently hoping nothing on her looked amiss. Her worry was enough to suppress her instant arousal at seeing Stan shirtless with a sheen of sweat. The t-shirt dangled in front of him, obscuring his lower half, but his chest looked different than she remembered. Still pale and with noticeable love handles, and yet also slimmer as though he’d miraculously lost five pounds since breakfast. “Oh, there you are,” he said, a quaver of surprise in his voice. “Thought you might be out back. I, uh, got a little sweaty on my run. Just gonna hop back in the shower. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she lied. “Just took a little catnap is all.” She glanced at the clock. Two hours had passed since she got home. How was that possible? Had she been diddling herself the whole time? Trying to think back only resulted in a blur of pleasure. “I should go start diner.” She brushed past him, almost floored by the scent of sweat. Julie wondered if he watched her walk past, leering at her butt before going to jerk off in the shower. No. I’m just scary horny.

Morning of Day One – Stan

Stan wanted to fuck his wife, again. Ten minutes earlier, she’d been eagerly manavgat escort sucking cum out of him like someone dying of thirst guzzling water from a fire hose. She’d scampered off to make them breakfast while he took a shower to wash away the residual of his first night on the pill. He vaguely remembered the first time waking up and being nearly unconscious while Julie forced him to drink water. He’d guzzled down another three glasses while the shower warmed up and he could probably drink another three. Makes sense, he thought. Body seems to be in overdrive for some reason. Doc warned us about getting dehydrated. Also makes sense for me to be fucking hungry. The horny part is a little weird though.

He looked down at his dick. He hadn’t cum more than once in a day since he was a teenager, yet as he lathered soap across his torso, his cock stuck out stubbornly, bobbing with each of his movements. The bizarre pressure hadn’t returned yet, though, which he thought was an improvement or at least a sign of things reaching a point of normalcy. Curious, he took his soapy hand and ran it up and down the length of his dick. Jerking off in the shower was usually fairly difficult and soap was surely not the best idea, but Stan didn’t mind much as he started to slide his hand up and down his cock with ease. He leaned himself forward against the shower wall and started imagining Julie kneeling in front of him, her mouth open and her eyes hopeful. She had been so eager to have him cum in her mouth. That had never happened before. Getting her to give a blowjob was rare enough, and Stan didn’t mind all that much as he’d never particularly enjoyed blowjobs compared to just having sex. But she fucking wanted it this morning. She wanted to feel my cock pushing her lips open. She wanted to run her tongue under my dick until I spurted thick cum down her throat.

Stan growled as his cum splattered out against the shower wall. A shudder later, he was watching it slowly ooze down with a mask of horror on his face. Julie could walk in at any moment and see what he’d done. Hell, his slightly wilting dick had a long glob of cum dangling from its tip like something out of bad porn. Maybe she’d get in the shower and clean it — “Jesus, Stan, get a grip.” Embarrassed, he cleaned off the shower wall and himself.

***

Clean and somewhat clearheaded, he sat down at the kitchen table for breakfast. Julie seemed to be in her own world. The stove had an empty tray sitting on it with clear signs of cinnamon bun residue, but they were no where to be see, other than the few crumbs at the corner of Julie’s mouth. Didn’t seem to deter her appetite though, as she had a full plate of eggs, toast, and bacon set out for herself as well as Stan. His own ravenous appetite made everything else irrelevant. He kissed her on the cheek as she put his plate down and even gave her ass a light squeeze. Her face turned red and she seemed distressed as she sat down opposite him. The moment passed quickly though as they each turned their attention to the food.

Neither spoke a word as they made brutal work of their meals. In fact, as Stan’s fork scrapped the last bit of jelly from the plate, he found himself wondering if he’d actually eaten anything or just imagined it altogether. Julie stared at her own plate with the same nonplussed look that she’d had when Stan arrived in the kitchen. Dehydration and low calories, he thought. So we’re starving, need a ton of water, and our brains are barely registering it. Was that in the pamphlet? He was still hungry so he went and got another three slices of bread, smearing them with butter as Julie watched. An empty cinnamon bun package sat on the counter. “Sweetie, did you make cinnamon buns?”

Julie snapped out of her daydream. “What? No, I didn’t.”

He held up the empty cardboard. “What’s this then? It’s ok if you were hungry during the night or something. I think the pill might be fucking with our metabolism. Doctor warned us about stuff like that.”

“I didn’t make those,” she said, firmly. “Didn’t we have some last week. Maybe I made them then and just kept moving the empty box around. You know we’re supposed to be eating better. I shouldn’t even be buying stuff like that.”

Rather than press the issue, Stan pushed a piece of toast in his mouth and carried the empty box to the trash bin. “I’m still starving,” he muttered as he went over to the fridge. “I think I’ll have some more eggs, do you want any?”

Julie was gnawing at her lower lip and her hand was visibly moving between her legs. As she noticed her husband, she snatched it away and abruptly stood up. “No, I’m gonna go change and get to work in the garden.”

He watched her go, wishing she hadn’t bothered to get dressed that morning. When they got the pill prescription, they’d joked about spending the whole week naked. Now that didn’t seem like such a far fetched idea, though Stan didn’t think he should start while standing in front of a hot stove. The eggs cracked and sizzled in the pan as he added seasoning and an unreasonable amount of cheese. Julie wouldn’t know and it wasn’t like he was secretly binge eating an entire platter of buns. He understood why she would feel embarrassed about it, but it was unlike her to outright refuse to admit something when he caught her as near to red handed as possible. It’s the drug, just making us a little weird.

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Rosella awoke naked in her bed. The memories came flooding back of her rescuer, waking her, claiming her. Her new king. Sitting up, Rosella winced at the tenderness between her thighs. She was a little embarrassed. This man may have woken her from her slumber, he may even be her “true love.” However, he was also a complete stranger, and she had given herself wantonly to him. She bit her lip in frustration as she realized he hadn’t even asked her name, simply calling her his princess. When she heard voices talking in the courtyard in the unfamiliar language he had first spoken, she realized that they were no longer alone.

Rushing to her wardrobe, the thick blanket wrapped around her body, she prayed that her clothes were still there. Her sigh of relief when she saw the beautiful silk and satin dresses hanging in the cabinet was short lived. The first one crumbled in her hands and moths flew out from the tattered remains. Almost all the dresses were similarly ruined, and she nearly sobbed in frustration. If her new king was bringing his men, she couldn’t meet them in her night rail!

Rummaging through the ragged dresses, she located a box at the back that seemed to have survived the onslaught of vermin. Opening it she found a deep blue gown. Taking it out, she shook the wrinkles from the simple two layer dress. As she gazed at it, she remembered why she had never worn it. It was terribly revealing. The long billowy sleeves were detached, leaving her shoulders bare and the bodice was corseted and laced tightly to reveal much of her cleavage. The delicate embroidery and rich silk fabric clung to her body, making her feel nearly as exposed as if she were merely wearing a shift. It was still better than the shift, however, and she wriggled into the tight corset, just managing to tie it behind her.

Finding her tiara and the locket containing the picture of her mother and father, Rosella searched vainly for a veil that hadn’t been eaten by the moths. However, there was nothing she could use to cover her long golden hair, so she simply plaited it over one shoulder and placed the tiara on her head.

Gathering her courage, she walked slowly down the steps, her slippered feet making almost no noise. The swish of her skirts whispered in the corridor, and she peeked out of the doorway, sighing with relief as she saw her rescuer speaking to a single man. With as much dignity as she could muster, in spite of her breasts nearly popping out of her gown, she greeted the two men with a pretty curtsy and a bright smile.

Both men stood speechless for a moment, until Sir Jamie noticed that his companion’s jaw was nearly touching his chest. Jabbing Stephen in the gut, Jamie stepped forward to take his lady’s hand and bow reverently before placing a teasing kiss on her hand. He allowed his tongue to taste her briefly before he permitted her to pull her hand away. The light kiss had sent a flush to her cheeks and she murmured something in her native language before remembering he couldn’t understand her.

“Greetings my king.”

Her old Anglian was far superior to his own. Stephen simply stared in confusion at the lovely vision before him, rubbing his abused stomach. He didn’t know any old Anglian, but the girl herself was so distracting he doubted he’d have understood her if she were speaking his native tongue. He couldn’t pull his gaze away from her slender neck and shoulders, the creamy white skin flowing down to tiny round mounds that looked as if they would slip from the bodice at any minute. He finally tore himself away when Jamie began to speak, first in Anglian, then in old Anglian.

“Stephen, this is the princess. Princess, this Stephen, my man.”

The princess curtsied again as Stephen took her hand and kissed her fingertips. He didn’t have the chance to linger, however, and watched Jamie enviously, as he led the girl to the dais in the great hall, seating her in the smaller chair next to the throne. Sitting next to her, stroking her hand lightly, he continued his prior conversation with Stephen, leaving the poor princess to sit in silence. She was furious! Again, he never even asked her name! Neither man noticed while Rosella fumed in silence.

“So, I need you to send word to the local towns, as we discussed.”

“Yes, m’lord. I already sent my falcon ahead, so some men should be arriving soon to begin with fixing up the castle. We need to make sure that we have a well defensible position. It won’t be long before someone comes along and tries to challenge your right to this kingdom.”

Jamie looked at his prize princess, then at his prize castle, an intense feeling of possessiveness stealing over him. This was his castle, his lands and his princess. No one would be taking them from him any time soon. When his giddy gaze was not reflected in the tense features of his lovely bride, he frowned in consternation. She was awake! The spell was broken! What on earth gave her lovely lips that terse scowl? Taking her hand again, he felt her fingers stiffen in his.

“What is problem, şişli escort princess? You look… not happy.”

Rosella took her hand from his and stood abruptly. Gathering her skirts, she swished off in indignation, not bothering to reply to his inane question. Jamie watched her go, but wasn’t terribly concerned. There wasn’t anywhere she could go, and he still had details to work out with Stephen. She would come and tell him what was bothering her when she was ready, or he would seek her out when he had finished.

Rosella worked out her anger as she stomped around the empty castle, staring sadly at the dilapidated decorations and furniture that had once been her home. She saw the kitchens, where she had often snuck down to taste fresh biscuits in the morning. Now they were empty, except for the spiders and rats that lived among the old bones and glass jars. She saw the vacant solar, the dusty books and ratty loom, her father’s leather arm chair where he would read poetry to her and her mother in the evenings. Rosella sank down to the floor and began sobbing, the pain of her loss still fresh.

All of a sudden she began to feel very dizzy. Rosella put a hand on her forehead, noting a slight flush creeping over her. It felt somewhat familiar, but she couldn’t place it. She tried to crawl over to a nearby armchair, but simply didn’t have the energy. Laying her cheek against the cool stone floor, she closed her eyes, sinking into a deep, dreamless slumber.

*********************************************** Jamie and Stephen were finalizing their strategies for protecting the new kingdom when the sky abruptly clouded over. The dark clouds were a surprise, since the morning had risen with nary a cloud for miles. Jamie didn’t know what to make of it, until Stephen’s sharp gasp caught his attention.

Following his gaze, Jamie noticed something strange about the castle. When the spell had broken, the thorns choking the keep had shrunk back and the sky had brightened to match the normal weather of the surrounding area. Now there were vines slithering up the sides of the walls. Jamie rushed to the gate and was stunned to see the thorn bushes were slowly beginning to re-grow. The site of the dragon’s ashes was being blown by a growing wind.

“Stephen, we need to find the princess.”

Stephen didn’t question his lord’s orders. He took off in the direction of where the girl had run, his eyes searching frantically for his lieges bride. Jamie scanned quickly, leaving Stephen to check any corners he missed. Finally, he made his way through the kitchens and into the solar, where he spotted the princess’s prone form.

At first, he was terrified that she was dead. It hadn’t occurred to him that the spell went beyond waking her, that her life was tied to the spell as well, but he wasn’t surprised. He’d heard a few men claiming how they would do away with her if they won the castle and she wasn’t what they expected. A few had feared an old crone. With no family to protect her, what was to stop them from doing with her as they wished?

It was then that an old wizard joined the conversation, scoffing at the warrior’s ignorance of magic. Lady Severna’s spell could only be broken by true love’s kiss. No man who would kill the princess would ever make it past the dragon. It was the old wizard who had given Jamie the idea to visit the sorceress himself. True love, to his knowledge, was a myth. The twisted wench had probably said that to sway the weak willed from trying, and tricking the bold and chivalrous to their deaths.

Leaning over his princess, Sir Jamie touched her lips, feeling for breath. He was both overjoyed and confused when he discovered that she was, indeed, still breathing. If she wasn’t dead, then what was happening?

He wasn’t sure why, but it was obvious that the spell was reasserting itself. Gathering the sleeping princess in his arms, he carried her up the steps to the tower room, ordering Stephen to continue with their plans. Stephen looked unsure, but bowed low, rushing out of the castle, being careful not to step in the whirling dragon dust.

When Jamie laid his bride on the bed, he gazed at her with a mixture of concern and frustration. He had been certain the spell was broken. Leaning over her inert form, he planted a quick, soft kiss on her lips. Nothing. His frustration was mounting. He kissed her again, more deeply this time, but with the same result. Had the sorceress been teasing him? Had she given him the means to slay the dragon fully knowing that the spell could not be broken? Or was he missing something?

Again, the old wizard’s words came back to him. True love’s kiss. Jamie still didn’t believe in true love, but there was one aspect of love that he was intimately familiar with. Inspiration dawned on him as he recalled that the first kiss he’d given his princess had not been on her perfect bow lips. Perhaps he needed to make love to her before kissing her. Most women believed a man in love when he was inside tuzla escort of them. It was the first thing a young, amorous man learned when he wanted to get between a woman’s legs. Promise her love and she’d give you everything.

Quickly, Jamie stripped his clothes from his body. He started to remove the princess’s clothing with the grace and finesse he always gave to a woman he was about to ravage, but her soft slumber meant that she probably wouldn’t notice. Peeling her dress and shift from her body in one swift movement, the detached sleeves quickly following, he covered her body with his, feeling his cock growing with excitement.

Pleasuring a sleeping woman was not something he’d ever done before he’d met his bride, but it seemed easier than when a woman was awake. She wasn’t concerned about her appearance, or what he would think of her if she enjoyed something truly sinful he was doing. The girl’s body had simply reacted to his lovemaking without any reservations. Jamie found that he was looking forward to this more than he should. Besides her total openness to his caresses, she also couldn’t tell him no once he was about to burst and she had second thoughts.

Jamie straddled her narrow hips and stared down at her naked body. He gazed at her perfect pink nipples and knew he had to taste one. But before he did, he slid his hands from her stomach up along her sides, tickling her ribs and eliciting a slight gasp. He had been right, before, she was ticklish. He finished by palming both breasts. They fit perfectly in his hands, spilling over his fingers just enough.

Flicking both nipples with his thumbs, he concentrated on her face, watching her expressions as she moaned and sighed in pleasure. When he was quite certain she wouldn’t wake up without the loving kiss, he leaned down and sucked a nipple into his mouth.

She arched into him, her hips writhing against his groin as she pressed her puffy nipple farther into his mouth. As he sucked her sensitive bud, Sir Jamie slipped one hand between them and stroked her nether lips. Her body bucked and he felt her opening was slick and wet. His cock was more than ready, so carefully he slipped it inside of her, his lips and tongue still teasing her breast.

The princess was still tight as when he’d first taken her, and hotter than ever. His cock swelled even more as it felt her soft walls engulf him, sucking him deeper inside her body. She moaned and lifted her hips to meet his thrust.

There was no shyness this time, no hesitations. Her body responded to his with a rising, unconscious passion, begging him for more. Slowly he began to thrust in and out of her body. Jamie closed his eyes, burying his head between her bosoms as he tried to focus on the rhythm instead of bursting immediately into her hot tunnel.

One of his hands reached beneath to cup her buttocks and press her hips even tighter against his own. When he felt the first flutters of her pussy, signaling to him that her release was getting closer, he began to quicken his pace, thrusting harder. He took one of her legs and pulled it up to wrap around his hips, granting him even deeper access to her body.

The princess was thrashing in ecstasy, her moans rising to loud cries of excitement. When her orgasm finally peaked she nearly screamed her moan was so loud. Jamie knew he was close as well. His body was on fire, and he felt a closeness to his bride that he hadn’t ever felt with anyone else. At least that was what he’d tell her if she was awake, that he’d never felt this way before.

Suddenly he wanted her to be awake. He wanted to look into her eyes as she felt him gush his seed inside her. Maybe watch as she came again, her eyes darkening in pleasure. He’d whisper her name as she came and she’d hold him tight. Jamie was annoyed when his fantasy was shattered by the fact that he didn’t know his princess’s name. He’d forgotten to ask, too caught up in planning his new kingdom. Well, that could be easily rectified. Still pumping long, hard strokes into her pussy, Jamie leaned down and kissed the princess’s open, panting mouth, thrusting his tongue deeply.

Her eyes fluttered open and stared at him in wonder and shock. He was right, they were a deeper blue when she was consumed with her passion. He ended the kiss, then trailed it down her jaw and neck, finally coming to her ears. He was enjoying the soft, surprised mewls of delight she was making, and when her pussy clenched him once more he knew she would reach climax again if he could hold off just a little longer.

“My princess…”

His hot breath against her ear was almost as intoxicating as the pleasure of his shaft sliding hot against her body. Her hands lifted from the bed to grip his shoulders, feeling her nipples as they brushed against his chest.

“My king… My Jamie.”

Jamie chuckled. Now was the time.

“Your name, my love, tell me it.”

The princess was nearly breathless, but he made out her stuttered reply.

“R-rosellllla.”

“Mmmm… pendik escort Rosella, my Ella.”

Rosella had never had anyone call her by a diminutive of her name before. It made it feel special, something between just the two of them. She glowed with happiness, feeling cherished and loved. She wasn’t sure how she got here in the tower, but at the moment, she didn’t care.

Jamie continued to whisper words of love to her in his native tongue. She didn’t understand it all, but it sounded exotic and sexy. Her fingers were clenching and unclenching his shoulders as he thrust in and out of her, and her own inner muscles were beginning to match the rhythm as well. When his lips slid against her own, kissing her deeply once more, Rosella burst, her pussy shuddering as it let down her juices, gripping his cock tightly.

He left his eyes open and so did she. He watched in satisfaction as her eyes widened and her brows soared while the pleasure rolled through her body. He swallowed every sigh and moan in their kiss, and when her body began to relax, he thrust hard three times and burst inside her. She could feel his cock twitching as it coated her inner walls. She felt as if she’d been claimed, branded from the inside out by her king and lover. She could barely wait until she could call him husband as well.

Jamie sagged down on top of the princess’s body. He was heavy, but Rosella liked his weight. Eventually he raised himself up onto his elbows and gazed into her face. Rosella felt a blush creeping up her naked body. She couldn’t read anything from his expression, and was surprised when he finally spoke.

“We need get you tutor.”

“Beg pardon, my king?”

“Tutor. For speaking. I not say what I want.”

It took her a second to understand that he wanted her to learn the new Anglian so that they could communicate better. She was touched.

“When men come, we find a man to tutor.”

He started to rise, pulling his clothes back on. Rosella pulled the blanket across her naked form, her mind whirling with questions she knew he might not be able to answer. She asked anyhow.

“My king, why am I in the tower? What happened?”

Sir Jamie paused in fastening his breeches. At first, she wasn’t sure he would answer her, but finally he spoke.

“You slept again. The spell.”

Rosella wasn’t sure what to say. Did that mean the spell wasn’t broken? Would she fall asleep again? Did that mean Sir Jamie wasn’t really her true love and she had given herself to a man in sin?

Her thoughts and worry were interrupted as he leaned down to kiss her on the forehead.

“I come soon. Men here in hours. I prepare.”

Rosella nodded mutely, but he was already heading out the door. He blew her a kiss, then walked out. Her feelings of safety and love were diminishing with every second he was gone. Doubts crept up on her, causing her fine brows to knit in worry. She didn’t understand what was going on, but she vainly hoped that once their language barrier was gone it would all be resolved.

Rosella felt so alone without her family or friends. She was desperate for Jamie’s love. But it wasn’t just the curse of the sorceress. There was something about Sir Jamie that drew her to him. She hoped it wasn’t some fancy, and that they would be able to build a real relationship soon. Right now their relationship seemed to be based solely on his rescuing her and sex. Rosella blushed deeply again, then shook her head in annoyance. No one knew her thoughts, there was nothing to be ashamed of in her own mind.

The princess didn’t know what Sir Jamie would be doing to prepare for the arrival of his men. She wanted to help, but knew that in most men’s work she would find herself getting in the way. She wasn’t strong and she didn’t know much about fortifying a castle beyond rallying the troops. After her brief tour of the ruined keep, however, she did know that there was more to her worth than a bloodline claim to the throne.

Pulling her dress back on, she hurried downstairs to the dilapidated kitchens. There was a sturdy brown smock that hadn’t been eaten by moths which she used to cover her dress. Her hair she covered in a ragged but clean dish towel. Rosella was surprised that the old brook cook kept in the corner was still stiff and usable. She began to sweep away the cobwebs and spiders, then found an old rag to wipe down the dust. It was hot, dusty work, and she was glad she’d had the foresight to cover her dress and hair.

She spared a minute to peek into the pantry and was a little glad to see that it was empty. Almost. The barrels and sac were ripped open and scattered on the floor, but the food was not rotting on the ground. Everything was completely picked clean. This would simply be a matter of sewing the sacs back together or replacing them, then nailing the barrels shut once more.

Slowly she walked through the trap door into the cellar and noted that there was nothing more than a slightly damp scent to the air. Feeling around for tinder and a torch, they were exactly where she expected them to be. Lighting the torch, Rosella checked stock of the few prized mason jars containing pickled fruits and eggs as well as several bottles of wine. The canned food was probably spoiled, but the wine would hopefully be well aged. If not, she would find use for the vinegar.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

The Princess of Mahoon is a fantasy meant to combine pulp science fiction with more erotic themes. Thanks to everyone for the incredible feedback on Chapter 1. As chapter 2 begins, Aklia the princess scout has caught and bound a Sadeerian warrior. In her haste to claim her prize and improve her standing in the Tribe, she prematurely mounts her captive, only to be taken captive herself. The story continues from the viewpoint of her abductor…

******************

Journal

Science Officer

28-767-3402

Both specimens are alive and intact.

Alien’s left arm is injured with a small projectile.

The woman is perfect.

Rowan reached up to decrease the sedative running into the arm of the raven-haired girl lying naked upon the table. His magnetic shoes allowed him to stand in zero gravity, but all of his things kept floating away from him while he worked. On top of that he’d been nauseated since leaving Mahoon’s gravity and had thrown up twice in his sleeping quarters with disastrous consequences to his bed. He decided he would never get used to space flight.

Glancing down, he found his hand upon the woman’s bare shoulder again. He pulled back in embarrassment, though there were no other conscious people in the science lab. Looking over his shoulder at the pale alien across the room, he decided that the nudity must be getting to him. The two bodies, stripped since the moment they were captured, each gave him goose bumps. But for different reasons.

Nothing in medical school or graduate school prepared him for this mission. He’d never been in space, never even met anyone who’d been in space. He was an overeducated science geek who made a hobby out of ancient cultures. Teaching culture and languages to teenagers at district college was much less interesting than medical research, but there was a doctor glut and he had a new wife to think about now.

The only person that he had seen completely naked before he got married was his anatomy cadaver, Holmes. And Holmes was a 138 year old man. With a big dick. Holmes had already been broken down into parts for the students when they got him, but the part that bothered Rowan was that giant schlong. It wasn’t fair that this dead body had more to work with than he had.

He looked back at his hand again, tentatively tracing the female’s shoulder again. Even after a cleansing, her skin felt oily and rugged. And she was copper-red. She was built like no one he’d ever seen before. No one on Mahoon had muscle like this. Hell, he’d never touched a person like this, even his wife. Especially his wife.

It had taken the Ministry nearly 32 years to pick a mate for Rowan. Kahay was 33 and had been an information librarian from Apolla Terrae Level 70, a mining colony in the most secluded province from the capitol city. Her move to his one bedroom flat last year had been awkward to say the least. Come to think of it, Holmes was still the only person that Rowan had ever seen naked before today. With the lights on, anyway.

The girl groaned and arched her head back slightly. Damn, her tits were huge. Beyond huge, they were obscene. Wider than his hands, though this was merely conjecture at this point. She was the tallest human he had ever seen. He couldn’t remember anyone in Tranquil City who would come to her chin. Not that anyone would look her in the eye. They’d be staring right into those two behemoths.

He clicked on her medical chart. She measured just over six and half feet and had weighed in at nearly 210 pounds on the ground. He couldn’t imagine how the men had managed to lift her or that alien onto the ship, even with a winch. He could barely move on that godforsaken heavy planet. He also had samples of her DNA and blood cooking, but knew he’d have to wake her up to learn what they needed to know. Hell, she was the reason he was on this blasted ship. She’d been asleep since she was hosed down with sedative while she was wrestling with the alien. And it seemed from the air that she had been getting the better of him.

He waddled over to check the alien while the girl smacked her lips dreamily. Lying eight feet across a seven foot table, the beast was menacing even through tightly closed eyes. The crew was under strict orders not to awaken this one until they were back on Mahoon. That was one order he would have no trouble following.

They had found the Sadeer bound with natural fiber, probably from the girl, and Rowan had forbidden anyone to remove it. The rope tied his hands behind his head and was pulled down his back and tied off in a figure eight around his hips and groin. Besides the grip of fear he felt every time he approached the animal, that groin was the other reason Rowan felt uncomfortable in the room. Looking at not one but two big dicks on the beast was even more painful than looking at old Mr. Holmes.

He ran the analyzer over the alien’s head. The brain was large and complex, almost human. The retinas seemed to be misshapen on both sides, giresun escort though, and Rowan wondered if the thing was blind. The small ears and hairless puckered face reminded him of old drawings of ancient water-dwellers called fish. Fishface. That’s what he decided to name the big bastard.

Turning, he saw the female’s face staring at the ceiling. Her gaze was dancing as if she couldn’t focus, but she turned slightly toward him as he glided over beside her. The plastic tethers that held her down on the table strained a bit as she spastically attempted to rise. Rowan smiled at her and tried to tell her to relax but she simply stared ahead, as if looking through him.

“Damn, son, get your act together,” Rowan thought to himself. The whole reason he had been selected for this mission was because of his ability to translate ancient languages. He had studied thirty of the forty-five ancient planet texts found in Tranquil’s archives. Nevermind that he’d never actually heard anyone speak any of them.

“Be comforted and fear not, for I am a peacemaker. Art thou injured?” Rowan spoke softly and slowly, struggling to form the words in his mouth as he went.

The girl blinked and focused in on his face. Her eyes widened as if she recognized some of his words. After several seconds, she opened her mouth as if to reply but merely drooled down her chin. Rowan jumped up and decreased the sedation more before retaking his place at her side. He spoke to her in soothing, disjointed phrases, trying desperately to look her in the eyes and forget that she was naked. And it couldn’t have been a harder task.

“…a ship sailing on air. Journeyed to find thou. Like Helen of Troy. Without the horse. Bad example. Understand?” He rolled his eyes listening to himself. He was speaking gibberish and he didn’t know whether to blame the language or the tits.

The girl closed her eyes and sighed, shaking her head. Rowan felt his heart sink. “She doesn’t understand me,” he whispered to himself, “what am I doing wrong?”

“Nothing, lovely one,” she said as her eyes open to fix on his. “I understand you perfectly. You are my angel? I am in Heaven?”

Her voice stunned him. The words sounded exotic but he knew their meaning perfectly. She listened patiently as he tried to explain in broken phrases that they were not in heaven and that he was human like her. To emphasize the point, he lowered his hand to her chest above her heart. Between her tanned breasts, his hand gripped her flesh as if feeling for her pulse. He meant it as a quick gesture, but his hand would not release her. He felt his erection beginning again, like when he first saw her lying in the forest. Reluctantly pulling his hand away, he then put his hand on his own chest and nodded.

Suddenly, her hand appeared from below and reached out for chest. As she did this, her upper body began to drift toward the ceiling. He realized that she had simply broken through her tethers as if shrugging them off. Rowan grabbed her shoulders and held her down to keep her from floating up. Startled, she looked at him with suspicion for the first time as his wild eyes tried to think of something to do. How could she break through the plastic? Did he forget to secure them properly?

Just then a commanding voice drained him of all his color. Spinning around at the sound, he stood in front of Captain Nasah-Avi who had just entered the portal door. Without thinking, Rowan threw his arm back to hold the girl down onto the table. Had he more time to react, he might have realized that he was holding her down by one of those delicious breasts so that she wouldn’t float away in front of the Captain.

“…about twelve more hours before we dock. Evasive position has cost us some time, but I’m sure we weren’t spotted by the Sadeers. Will you have the girl awake by then, Officer Rowan?” The captain was a short man, but pulled himself to every inch of his height each time he spoke. Rowan was nearly as afraid of Captain Nasah-Avi as he was of that damn alien. Luckily, the captain was half-turned to inspect Fishface, hardly giving the girl behind Rowan a notice.

“Yea… yes sir. She’s in a very delicate time in recovery and I don’t think extra stimulation will be good for her. Could I get a guard outside the portal, sir? To, er, keep the men from getting curious and upsetting her before, you know, she’s ready?” Rowan was sweating now, something he hadn’t done in twenty years.

“Quite right, Officer. A detail will be dispatched immediately. Is there anything else you require?”

Rowan felt the girl’s fingers creep up his back as if walking up his spine. He shifted quickly so that his elbow would trap her wrist against his back. He now realized where his hand was and his voice raised nearly an octave. “Good, I mean, thank you, sir. No, nothing. Everything is going splendidly, superbly. Um, never better. How are you?” The beads of sweat had to be showing yalova escort by this point, but the captain still seemed to be surveying Fishface intently.

“According to plan, Officer. Make sure that he’s secure at all times per protocol. Carry on.” Nasah-Avi turned to leave, then spun around with an afterthought. “You are planning on covering them soon, I hope, Officer Rowan. It will not do to keep them in this state of vulgarity, you know.” The captain caught his eye briefly before disappearing without waiting for an answer.

As the portal door closed, Rowan nearly fainted. It wasn’t until the girl’s hand closed upon his arm from behind that he regained his senses. Her grip was inhumanely strong, and she seemed to be lifting his arm up slowly. He turned to find her sitting up holding his arm, and searching the science lab with inquisitive eyes. He begrudgingly removed his hand from her hardened nipple and gently pushed her shoulders down to the table.

Once he got her supine again, he retethered her and tried to explain zero gravity to her. Even though he knew she probably had no idea what he was talking about, she didn’t attempt to remove the tethers this time.

Rowan went to the portal door and locked it against further invasion. Just as he started to go back to the girl, the sleep alarm went off. A short message from the first mate came through demanding sleep for the crew prior to docking initiation just as the lights in the cabin went half dim. Though he hadn’t slept in nearly two days, Rowan couldn’t head to the bunk. It was all he could do to tear himself from the woman, but he simply had to recut and edit the science lab’s video recorder before they reached Tranquil City. Even the grainy images of his intimacy, not to mention her floating, would be enough to get him into hot water he was sure.

Heading into the control booth, he replayed the tape. Yep, there it was. His hand on her shoulder, her breast. Her floating behind him as he talked with the captain. As he reran it several times, he enlarged the image of her. While he stood with his back to her, her hand had traveled over her body, from her neck to her abdomen. Probably looking for more tethers. He froze an image of her hand on her nipple. His hard-on returned, but this time he didn’t mind it so much. Rowan leaned against the control desk so that he could press it against something hard. This was what he always did when he wasn’t being watched and his dick woke up.

After replaying the image of her fingers touching her breast several times, he advanced the tape and saw her hand snake up his back only to be trapped by his elbow. Then, he leaned forward as he realized what her other hand was doing. She had reached down to cup her genitals with her free hand, not releasing herself until she began to float off the table as the captain was walking out.

Rowan sat in amazement. Twenty times he rewound the tape, each time growing more excited. The girl was clearly touching herself. Almost…playing with herself. He had never seen anything like this before. The Ministry of Health expressly forbid this type of self-exploration; he didn’t even hold himself while pissing. The taboo was so strong that he couldn’t even bear to guide himself into his wife the few times they had practiced intercourse. Since they hadn’t been given the clearance to have a child, they had not done this often and frankly it had never gone that well.

He stood almost breathless watching her arm move down and back again. Eight seconds. Eight seconds she did it, but it changed his whole world. He contemplated as he humped the desk leg that he had never touched himself sexually. Nor had he ever considered the idea. His hand slid down over his suit and came into contact with the hardness underneath. Trying to mimic her, he covered his crotch with his hand and sighed with how good that felt. This was better than leaning against a desk any day. And yet guilt kept creeping over him as he fought to hold his growing erection.

With one hand he cut out the offending tape and respliced it with footage of the two captives lying motionless and asleep without anyone else in the picture. He would have to chance it that the captain would not review the tape from the science lab and realize that his visit had been cut out. He then made a new tape of the removed images. This one he would keep from himself. He did all of this left handed, his right one not letting go of its newly found handhold.

After he hid his personal tape away in his belongings, he returned to hit the record button on the camera. The live image of the next room lit up the screen and he lost his grip on his cock. There was the girl on the screen, floating over the paralyzed alien and trying to maneuver in the zero gravity air.

“Oh shit. Oh… Holy shit. I’m dead. Fucking dead.” He could only stare at the swimming figure, for as beautiful as she was, he knew this would be the end yozgat escort of him. The girl was spinning in circles, laughing and enjoying her new game.

Mesmerized, he forgot to turn off the record button. He stood flabbergasted, thoughts of banishment or worse dancing in his head, the sight of the naked figure twisting and turning in the air drawing him closer. He’d never seen anything so…erotic.

With a sudden collision, the girl landed against the alien’s legs strapped onto the table. Gracefully, she grabbed a tether with each hand and pulled herself against his body. Her feet disappeared around each side of the table’s end as she held on with all fours to keep her body from floating away. Her face was turned toward the camera and appeared stunned at first, then it broke into a wide grin.

She looked down and saw the alien’s upper thigh and groin before her. The alien’s snaky cocks, suspended in the zero gravity, waved back and forth in front of her face. Rowan could see her talking now, as if speaking to the huge dicks in front of her. He turned up the sound and caught only a whisper of what she was saying.

“…humans, aren’t they? You are fallen from cooking pot into fire. I wonder if the men will have their way with you as I will.” Her expression turned thoughtful. “Or maybe they have women.”

The scene before him entranced poor Rowan and he was barely aware that he had his cock back in his hand. His gut reaction screamed to let go, but he could not obey. The sight of this dark beauty holding herself down on top of the naked alien, cocks flying just inches before her face, was too much for him.

The girl suddenly straightened her back and inched up his thighs until she was peering down at the first cock. Her sultry voice came through low and forceful.

“I will assure my place in the tribe or else. For you are mine.”

With that, she lunged toward the nearest cock. It was the smaller of the two and was still at least six inches in length. Rowan looked down at his own weapon being squeezed subconsciously by his fingers. His looked very similar but had never felt the touch of a woman’s mouth before. Who had?

She caught the smooth surface of the side of the shaft with her lips and held it there while she readjusted her handhold on the tethers. Then she bit upwards in small hops so as not to lose the cock completely. The smaller rod seemed to grow slightly and stiffened as she worked her way along it’s length.

Once they reached the tapered tip, her lips parted and Rowan saw her tongue flick back and forth as if tasting. She made a face and spit, the alien’s cock slipping from her mouth and floating away. He thought he heard her say, “Piss,” but he couldn’t be sure. As her face came back into view, she was smiling again, though it was a slightly devious look it seemed to Rowan.

He heard her calling out, a little louder this time, “Sadeer, you taste like pigshit. You’re impotent, disgusting, and worth only one thing. Now Devil, by the Queen, give it to me.”

As she spoke, Rowan saw her lean into the beast’s groin and he lost her face against the base of the second cock. This one was enormous, triangular head topping a shaft as thick as a forearm. Even semi-erect it stuck out from behind her head as she licked the base of the dancing monster cock.

Her thick hair hid her face but he could tell by the way that her head shook back and forth that she was toying with his cock. He’d never seen a blowjob before, never even considered the possibility of oral sex. Little did he know that the girl was engaged in her first as well, though she had practiced on wooden dildos countless times while bunking down for the night.

The girl’s head rose up the big cock slowly, finally moving to the side so that he could see her jaw and mouth. Her head on its side, she held the base of the cock between her lips, tongue slipping back and forth. Once, he saw her teeth biting into the big cock and her saw her break off in laughter and he thought he saw Fishface jerk for a brief moment. Otherwise, the huge beast was a bound victim completely at her whim.

She captured his dick again with her mouth and began the climb up the cock in little jumps. This gave the appearance that she was repositioning his growing erection as if to gobble it up from the end. Once the head was reached, she tongued all the way around it, leaving a trail of saliva dripping down the shaft. The cock grew tighter and didn’t seem to sway as much now, standing straight up at her face.

Rowan began to feel fluid leaking out of the end of his cock. He looked down and his own member was hard as a rock, with one clear drop of liquid appearing at the opening. He’d never seen anything like this; in a way it reminded him of the moisture on his cock after he and Kahay had tried intercourse, except then the fluid had been all over his dick when he pulled out. He’d always assumed that this was her liquid, since he was not given permission to spill his seed yet. He tried to recall the scientific name of the male fluid but it escaped him at the moment. He touched the fluid and picked it up with his finger. Lifting it to his lips, he sucked it into his mouth to see how it tasted. Semen, he thought. It’s called semen. Or is it pre-cum? Damn. Either way, it didn’t exactly tickle the palate.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Alternate categories: lesbian, exhibitionist and voyeur

—

Eva was not a naive woman. She wasn’t nicknamed The Eyes by her cousins without reason; she was quite good at perceiving when anything around her happened. Despite the childhood teasings, her sharp wit and keen eye granted her quite an abundance of success. How many other baseborn women could claim that they had earned their way into the castle?

From maid to handmaiden, Eva rose in the ranks–as much as one could as the daughter of a pig farmer. The Queen Regent’s niece accredited the newest fashions of the land to Eva’s expert cognizance. She had a knack for looking at a person and simply knowing what was going on in their mind, whether they were true or evil, honest or ungenuine. Beyond that, she had wonderful taste, and so the royal family unanimously agreed that she should be in charge of floral arrangements for the ball.

This was how she ended up being allowed to lead a small trio of maids in making flower chains for the ballroom. Abigial and Bessie already retired to get some rest, but Eva and Gretta remained.

“I just want to get this finished so we aren’t in a rush tomorrow,” Gretta insisted. She was a sweet woman, a tan and beautiful woman who was never able to conceive a child with her husband. Rumors blamed her for being baron, other, harsher, ones claimed the husband was never interested in women in the first place. Eva knew better. Charles longed for her any second she didn’t look at him, she could tell. He would often sneak around to steal a glance from her as if he still courted her as a young pup. She could tell just from his eyes how he longed to have her any moment they didn’t touch–which was often, as etiquette required. Gretta noticed these stares, often dropped things clumsily or giggling to catch his attention.

One particularly private night, Eva lay awake, unable to sleep, and she heard them in the supply closet right next to her private chambers. Their sounds aroused her beyond what she previous imagined possible–and, to her surprise, more Gretta’s little moans than anything. It became a secret goal of hers to hear those moans in person, right in her ear with the sweet woman’s breath right on her neck. She wanted to cause those sounds, to feel the way she gripped at Charles when he pressed against her. And, if Charles was also there, helping curate those groans and sighs, that just sounded all the better.

That private night, Eva never slept. Instead, she let her hands play husband for her, pretending she was in the same closet as Gretta and Charles. Eva was simply exhausted the next morning from her extensive nighttime activities, but nothing could kill her good mood. This needed to happen again, a time where she could watch what they did.

However, Eva often felt a little bad for the couple. They were married and desperately in love, ached for each other, but they didn’t see one another very often. They couldn’t sleep together, as the castle didn’t have enough rooms for their servants to live with family. Where did they even steal away to be together? There must have been more places than the one supply closet, as Eva only caught them once–though not without effort.

They were very careful to be discrete, but tonight, Eva decided that she needed to absolutely stay in the same room as Gretta until she could no longer pretend not to notice what was going on under the table. This extra excitement only motivated Eva to be quite a bit more bold than she had ever been.

Right after their supper break, Eva led zonguldak escort the group of maids back to their room to continue crafting the flower decorations. She saw, ever so briefly, the shadow of a familiar man disappear into the room before she could turn the corner completely. Something kept Eva’s words at her throat, even when the four maids entered the room and shut the door behind them.

This simple storage room held a table, covered in a cloth, that now swayed slightly as if someone ducked under to avoid being seen. Eva expertly hid her smile, and sat herself between Bessie and Abigail so that she could be directly across from Gretta.

Her suspicions were proven right throughout the evening, as Bessie and Abigail bickered periodically about kicking one another.

“I did no such thing!” Bessie claimed, haughty.

Eva cut off their argument before it could begin: “Focus, dear ladies. We don’t have much time.” Neither woman kicked the other or stepped on their toes–it was, of course, Gretta’s naughty husband, hiding under the table. She let him sit there, probably terrified of getting caught, embarrassed for miss-judging the time. She only left him in discomfort for an hour, though, before she dismissed Bessie and Abigail.

“Rest up, you’ve worked so hard today. You’ve earned an early retirement.” And, because twisting flowers into braids was infinitely tiring on the eyes, the women agreed and left. “Gretta, you seem so eager to work!”

“I just want to get this finished so we aren’t in a rush tomorrow.”

Eva smiled at her and nodded. “I appreciate your foresight! I suppose if the flowers wilt from the humidity, we could just…brush them all under the table cloths, hm?” The woman across from her kept her gaze down, but nodded furiously as she twisted a few leaves together. Gretta jumped a little, biting her lips into a thin line.

Gretta’s breathing was quicker than when they sat down, and her hands shook just slightly. Eva had her own fair amount of love affairs. She knew that Charles was crouched under the table, kissing his wife’s legs, massaging her thighs. He was almost silent, but Eva could hear the quiet movement of fabric if she listened very carefully.

“How’s your husband, dear?” Eva decided to ask, raising her brows. “I can’t imagine how…hard…it must be to not live with him.” She tied a string around a small bouquet of flowers, and just glanced through her lashes at the young woman.

“Oh, it’s…it is quite…difficult,” she admitted quietly. Her chest was flushed; Eva imagined that her husband’s fingers were fully up her skirts, teasing her, threatening to touch her while they weren’t alone. Perhaps he liked the idea of being caught just as much as Eva liked the idea of catching them.

“And, if I may be so bold to say, I can’t honestly see how you keep your hands off of him. He’s an incredibly attractive man.” Eva straddled a line, there, but she had the distinct feeling that Gretta would not mind sharing a few erotic details tonight in particular. And if she was up for that, perhaps….

“I–I–,” the woman began to stammer, fully staring, now.

“Oh, forgive me,” Eva continued, feigning embarrassment, “it’s been so long since I’ve found a man that was a worthy lover. I must admit, I’ve seen you two steal away and it’s simply–well, I’m jealous! He seems like a man that really cares for his wife, if I may say so.” She added some extra emphasis and set the flowers she worked with on the table, leaning fethiye escort forward just a bit. Gretta’s face flushed, and she covered her smiling lips with a hand, shaking her head.

“He is, yes…. I–I mean to say….”

“Don’t be so shy,” Eva said, adding a wink. She placed her hands on the table, spaced, and leaned even further. Gretta’s eyes flickered from her face to the dipping cleavage Eva now rested on the table. Tonight could be fun. “I always considered you a close friend. Do you remember that night we had too much wine before your wedding and I said I would be your husband if Charles didn’t stay? I meant it, you know. You’re a wonderful woman. Kind, attractive, hard-working….” She reached forward toward Gretta’s free hand, squeezing the trembling thing gently. “And, I apologize. I’ve been forward. I have no idea what sort of lover Charles is. I mean, he could be clumsy and terrible!”

Before Gretta could interrupt her, Eva sighed and looked to the ceiling, as if deep in thought. “I didn’t even consider asking your feelings on him.” She managed to lace their fingers, and placed her other hand to massage the woman’s wrist. “Some men, I’ve learned, don’t even know how to use their tongues. Can you believe that?” Gretta seemed surprised, and Eva stole the opportunity to ask, “You do know what they do with their tongues, don’t you?”

“I–I actually, I don’t,” the sweet woman admitted, blinking wildly. She looked far more intrigued, so Eva released her hands and slipped into the chair Bessie occupied from before so that she was closer. Gretta jumped just slightly, adjusting herself accordingly to keep her husband hidden, but Eva pretended not to notice.

“Oh, it’s incredible,” she began as she sat down, taking her friend’s hand once again. “First, I hope you don’t mind me describing–” Gretta shook her head and waved for her to continue, “First they start by kissing your knees…oh, it’s just torture.” Eva pulled her hand closer, just inches from her chest, and stroked her forearm gently. “Then, they slowly kiss and massage your thighs, all the way up to your maidenhood.” She dragged her fingers up to Gretta’s palm, circling around in her path. “But the best part isn’t that, it’s a small, little rose right above, a button. Do you know that part?” Eva massaged the palm of her hands, looking directly in her eyes. Gretta nodded stiffly, her breathing taut and shallow. She desperately hoped that Charles was following her instructions, pleasing this gorgeous woman to the exact letter she described. Eva closed her eyes, rearing her head back. “Oh, they kiss it so gently, then they open your legs to run their tongue up and down your slit, just up and down, up and down, so gentle, but their tongue brushes that little button every time.” She let out an exaggerated whimper, pressing into Gretta’s hand with her fingers, demonstrating the exact motion. “Oohhh, up, just to the tip, down into that wet hole you know they want to bury into so bad–but every time they return to that sweet–oooh—that sweet button. Every lick and touch just sets you on fire….”

Finally, she could feel Gretta tense up just so slightly between her hands. She took one away to run her fingers down her own neck, down to the line of her cleavage.

“Oh, the best part, Gretta,” she continued, her eyes closed tight, one hand exploring near where her nipples would be if she could just get out of these damned clothes–the other hand gently massaging Gretta’s palm as if she were Charles’ alanya escort tongue under her dress. “Ooohh….” Eva opened her eyes and looked straight at Gretta’s sweet, tortured face. She was moments from exploding, herself. “The best part,” Eva continued, glancing to the hand on her breast, “is when they do this, too. Do it.” She nodded with her head to encourage Gretta to mirror her, hand over breast, dipping right below the lining of the dress. She let go Gretta’s hand and stuffed both sets of her fingers underneath the tight hemline, pulling her nipples, releasing them into the cold air of the room so she could twist them. “Oh, and they twist and pull…all while kissing you down there, kicking, sucking on it….”

A little moan escaped her friend’s lips. Eva watched Gretta comply with her request, pinching and twisting her own nipples while her husband licked away just underneath the table cloth. She vaguely could hear the wet slipping of his tongue through her lips, the tiniest sound of sucking at the suggestion.

“Not like that,” Eva said, despite the fact that Gretta followed instructions perfectly. She slid off of her chair and knelt behind Gretta’s, slipping her own hands underneath before Gretta could open her eyes and see what was happening. “Like this….” She reached and scooped at the delicious, caramel bosom. She rested her head on Gretta’s shoulder, watching the movement of someone’s head directly under the table cloth that draped over Gretta’s knees.

As she pinched at the woman’s nipples, she was rewarded with a moan. Gretta’s head leaned back, exposing her neck to Eva’s gentle kisses. Her hands still pulled at the senstive nubs while her friend kept the fabric of her dress and corset at bay, exposing herself to the room completely. She was at the mercy of pleasure, legs spread under the table for her husband’s hungry mouth.

“So good,” Eva groaned, pulling and massaging Gretta’s heavy breasts. “Oh, when they play with your nipples, and they suck so hard on your clit…. Ohh, so good.” Gretta let out a small help, but bit her lips together to prevent much more noise. Eva could feel a drip of arousal from her own maidenhood run down her legs.

“Oooh, Charles, you’ll have to do me next,” Eva moaned, slipping her head to kiss Gretta’s cleavage. Right as she gasped for being found out, Eva caught Gretta’s nipple between her teeth, gently biting and pulling. She could see the movement of hands under Gretta’s dress climb up to her hips, grabbing hold. He was fully licking her, sucking her, free to make as much noise as he now desired. He ravished her, Eva tortured her with kisses and moans in her ear, Gretta trembled beneath her hands. Every breath was a moan. Gretta now reached up to Eva, pulling her head down into her gorgeous breasts, encouraging her to lick and suck at her nipples as if she was a starving peasant. The feeling of the woman’s fingers in her hair, pushing her down, forcing her to continue pleasuring her sensitive nubs forced a suppressed moan from Eva’s lips.

Gretta pumped her hips toward her husband’s mouth, spread her legs as far as they would go. She breathed so heavily, called out, announcing her upcoming climax.

“Ooh, please, please, please,” she begged, her fingers tightening on the back of Eva’s neck. She bit one nipple, no longer gentle, pinched the other, and pulled hard as the woman cried out, shaking, convulsing completely underneath their work. Eva could hear Charles suck and slurp under the table cloth every moment his wife jerked in her hands. She squeezed them, holding her still until Gretta’s breath finally calmed to a slow, when the woman let out a final groan of satisfaction.

Charles lifted the tablecloth off of his head, exposing a wicked grin. He still grabbed at his wife’s hip with one hand, but his eyes met with Eva. She locked eyes with him, kissing her way up Gretta’s neck.

“My turn next.”

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Author’s Notes: I asked for reader story suggestions, and this is what resulted from the sole response. It turned out to contain a ton more superheroics than it did sex, but that seemed to be what the story required to make it work. I’ll try to arrange more sex in the next one.

EPISODE FOUR: Blowing Hot and Cold During Testing

You’ve been out of retirement almost six months now. Through all this time you keep finding hints that someone is following you when you’re out on patrol, though you never get a good look at your stalker and seem to be unable to track him (or her) in turn.

You decide to ask around in the hero community, and it turns out you’re not the only heroine having this experience. Over the past several months several female vigilantes have detected somebody watching them. In fact they’ve hung the moniker “the Watchman” on the elusive figure. No one knows who it is or what he (or she) wants, and no one’s been able to catch him or even get much of a view before he scrams. The general consensus is that he’s some low-powered super-villain who’s a voyeur.

This isn’t quite as rare as one might think. Everybody in the profession knows of two famous cases of this sort of thing, Peeping Tomcat and the Gawker. Peeping was a small-time crook who gained the ability to climb any wall unaided no matter how sheer, even glass. He supported himself via residential burglary (a lot of people above the tenth story don’t bother to lock their balcony doors), but his chief interest was peering through windows to watch the unsuspecting occupants have sex (a lot of people above the tenth story also don’t bother shutting the blinds, for similar reasons).

He did the same thing at some of the high-rise super lairs (like Revengers Tower) to spy on heroes and heroines doing the nasty, which is how he eventually got caught. Tomcat went to prison for a stretch, now he’s on probation but as a registered sex offender wearing an ankle tracker. So you know it’s not him.

The Gawker was a bit odder. He was a supernormal with an incredibly rapid healing factor that allowed him to be in harm’s way in situations where an ordinary person would be toast, but he used this power solely to stalk heroines and watch as they punched out male criminals. Never followed male heroes around, and never stayed to watch when heroines were fighting other women. He just wanted to see strong females beat up males.

It made a lot of heroines feel pretty uncomfortable having him hanging around during a fight, not to mention the fact that he sometimes got in the way. Things became even worse after Stone Butch got so tired of the dude following her that she decided to teach him some manners by mopping the floor with him. Instead of discouraging him this made the Gawker discover that he enjoyed getting hit by a strong woman even more than he did watching her do it to someone else.

After that the fool kept deliberately harassing heroines trying to get them to “punish” him, until one day the Gawker somehow fell out of the sky from two thousand feet up even though there were no aircraft in the vicinity. At that point everyone (including the Gawker, briefly anyway) found out that his healing factor wasn’t strong enough to let him recover from being splattered over several acres. So it can’t be him, either.

There have also been other sex-oriented villains over the years (meaning more than just your usual, “defeat the heroine and rape her” sort, which of course is the majority of male villains as well as a strong minority of villainesses). For instance one of Dr. Venus’ pleasure-bots spontaneously developed true AI, broke loose from the inventor’s control and started calling itself The Penetrator. Now more of a rape-bot, it embarked on a reign of terror until it was scrapped by a joint effort of several heroines.

And there was the even stranger case of a magical flying dildo created by Mr. Magicalist for the private use of Virgin Queen. It later gained intelligence due to a spell of Diabolicale (he apparently was trying to turn it into a way of murdering VQ, who’d thwarted many of his plots), after which the now self-aware magic dildo proclaimed himself a free being and took the name Vibratron.

It’s arguable whether Vibratron was even a villain. He had a reputation for sudden and intrusive interactions with females (both normals and supers), but his claim was that he had the magical power of knowing whether a woman really “wanted it” or not and that he only ever accosted those who did. For what it’s worth very few of his victims ever went ahead and pressed charges. In the end he was crushed to death during a confrontation (so to speak) with Princess Amazonia.

None of the other heroines believe they’ve been stalked by this “Watchman”as often as you have, but it’s possible this is because your senses are more acute and you’re noticing the faint presence while they don’t. They all have the same experience of him fleeing when anyone tries to investigate or even merely if he’s noticed. gümüşhane escort So no one is terribly concerned this guy is a real threat.

“It’s not as if we don’t get ogled by some of the norms and fanboys when we’re around them,” Lady Liberty said with a shrug while the two of you are discussing the matter. “If all he wants is a panty shot as I do a high kick I guess it’s no skin off my nose.”

Of course, if this “Watchman” has been spying on you some of the times you think he has then he’s seen a lot more than just your panties. As far as that’s concerned you don’t wear anything under your costume anyway.

You don’t tell Libby that, though. No reason to tattle on yourself.

* * * * * *

You don’t really have time to worry overmuch about such things anyway. Your life is busy at present. Fighting crime, taking care of most of the household chores because it’s not like anyone else is going to step up and do the cooking or cleaning, talking over the phone to your lawyer about your ongoing divorce, trying to reconnect with your son after missing fourteen years of his childhood.

This also means you haven’t been able to address certain of your own needs. The episode with Electric Eel definitely left you well-sated, a state which lasted about a week, but since then your only source of fun is your trusty vibrator. And you’re reluctant to resort to that when Ryan is at home, because what if he hears it?

So when the message from Thermo arrives challenging you to a private match-up you are immediately interested. A villain who arrived on the scene maybe ten years ago now, Thermo is younger than you by about the same amount. You’ve heard that he originally wanted to be a hero and applied to become part of the Revengers, but they turned him down saying his powers weren’t up to their standards. To show them how wrong they were Thermo decided to become a criminal instead and embarked on typical new-villain showy crime wave, robbing multiple banks in broad daylight, kidnaping the governor for ransom, and generally making a nuisance of himself for the heroes. Which probably teaches some moral about not rejecting a heartfelt offer, or not being so set in your ways to see a person’s true worth, or something. Truthfully you think it merely proves the Revengers have been a dysfunctional bunch of egotists from the get-go whose reputation is more hype than anything else, but that’s just your opinion.

You’ve never met Thermo personally, and he’s not one of the bad guys who you and the other heroines typically trade notes about. But it’s common knowledge that you’re back in action, and it’s possible that he had his eyes on you before you married Paragon but never got around to asking. Maybe at that point he was simply too new at the game to know how this sort of thing works, and now he does and is still interested in getting to know you a whole lot better.

You check out pictures on the net, along with the old video of his ransom demand when he (briefly) held the governor. Doesn’t wear a mask, meaning you can see he’s definitely nice looking aside from being a buff, broad-shouldered type. Like most supers he’s known to be more resilient than a normal, which is always nice since you don’t have to worry as much about hurting him if things get wild.

The message arrived as e-mail, with an obviously fake return address. You check the gateways just in case, but the trail goes dead like you expected. He wants you to meet him at a specific place and time but hasn’t left you any way to reply.

It could be a trap, of course. With villains it could always be a trap, that’s why you and the other heroines have your network to trade information on which ones are (relatively) trustworthy in situations like this. You reach out to a few of your contacts asking if anyone knows anything about Thermo, but no one has much to offer (beyond a few jokes along the lines of “I think he’s pretty hot, ha ha”).

You drum your fingers a bit, then shake your head. Even if it is a trap it’s worth checking out. You set up a timed message to several of your colleagues about the place Thermo indicated, letting them know you went there. It will be sent out six hours after the time you get there if you don’t cancel it. That should be good enough.

* * * * * *

On the night of the rendezvous you order pizza since it means no dishes to do. Ryan notices. “Are you going on a particular mission tonight, Mom?” he asks.

You’re glad he’s reaching out for a change, but it’s pretty embarrassing that it had to be about what you’re planning.

“Uh, kind of. It’s just a little meet-up with some of the girls, not anything you’d be interested in,” you lie. Then you turn it around. “Are you thinking about joining me in the hero business? Before you said that you weren’t sure.”

Your soon looks away. “Don’t start, Mom. Dad pushes me about it enough as it is.”

You reach over and pat his hand. “No pressure, hatay escort honey. All your mom wants is for you to be happy, no matter what.”

For some reason your attempt to comfort only seems to get him agitated. “I have things I need to do,” he mutters, then retreats to his bedroom leaving his third slice half-eaten. You sigh, wishing you understood teenagers better.

You re-box the pizza and stuff it in the fridge, then get into your costume. Leaving by the secret tunnel that leads to a concealed exit (one of the few good thing about your marriage to Paragon is that the house he had built for the two of you is designed for use by superheroes), you head out for the industrial park the e-mail had mentioned.

* * * * * *

The building at the address Thermo sent is a big three-story structure formerly owned by Rossum Corp, a failed androform robot manufacturer. While evil geniuses have no trouble creating humanoid robots to wreak havoc, no one has yet been able to completely work out the bugs when trying to safely apply the technology to the commercial market. Right now the building is vacant.

Abandoned or empty properties are frequently chosen for this sort of encounter as it’s much less likely you’ll run into bystanders, particularly bystanders with phones that might post a pic of two sworn enemies fraternizing. But something about the place smells wrong to you. Not literally (it smells like a vacant industrial building, all the solvent and lubricant odors are old), but it just doesn’t seem like the sort of setting someone would choose for canoodling. The front door is unlocked, but you decide you’d better proceed cautiously anyway.

The lobby is dark and empty, as are the offices off the hall you pass through. You can hear some noises from deeper inside the building so you keep padding softly forward. Soon you get to a giant double door labeled “Manufactory Bay One” which is where the sounds are coming from. You nudge it open slowly and step inside.

The area beyond the door is a vast mostly empty space with a concrete floor and various pieces of heavy machinery around the edges. Thermo is there, all right, the blue and red get-up is hard to miss. But for some reason he’s using his heat beams on a large box in the exact center of the room. The box is a featureless shiny metal cube about three meters or so on each side, and despite the power Thermo is exerting it doesn’t seem to be changing at all. From all the signs, Thermo is frustrated by this lack of response.

You watch for a short while, wondering what’s going on. It certainly doesn’t seem like a trap, but on the other hand it doesn’t seem like the start of a romantic interlude either. Finally you clear your throat to let Thermo know you’ve arrived.

He spins around, spots you. “Cougaress? Shit, how the hell did you find me?”

This was probably the response you expected least, which means you’re a little slow getting out of the way of the cold blast Thermo sends your way. Frost forms on your costume before you leap to take cover behind one of the pieces of machinery.

“I’m not letting you stop me, bitch,” Thermo shouts. From the sound he’s taken to the air, which he can do in here since for whatever reason Manufactory Bay One is almost as high as the building is tall. Maybe the reason the company failed was because nobody wanted a three-story tall domestic robot?

You stick your head out and spot him, then duck back as he sends a heat beam your way. “Damn, I hate fighting flier types,” you grumble. They have much too easy a time staying out of your reach, and if they have a ranged effect power (as Thermo does) they just love zapping you from afar.

You glance around. This is an industrial workplace, so like you expect there’s a fire extinguisher mounted on a wall nearby. You grab it.

“Heads up, Thermo,” you call, tossing the cannister at him.

As planned, your warning gives him time to see it coming. As you hoped, he responds by zapping it with a heat beam. The cannister and its pressurized contents explode, creating a cloud of fire-suppressant gas which keeps rushing forward on the same trajectory (basic Newtonian physics) and blinds him.

You use the opening to dash out and grab another extinguisher. You aim at his midriff and prepare to throw hard his time. If he can’t see it coming he can’t dodge, and once you knock him out of the sky you’ll be all over him.

Just then the top of the metal box in the middle of the room blows off and all four sides fall open, revealing a big glowing and spinning ball. A powerful wind rises which pulls you, Thermo, and everything else that isn’t bolted down toward the center of the room. Thermo, who’s right above the thing and disoriented, gets sucked into the ball and vanishes with a sort of popping sound.

The wind pulls you off your feet. You drop the extinguisher and extend your claws, trying to dig them into the concrete floor to stop sliding toward ısparta escort the glowing ball, but it’s too late. You reach it the edge of the ball and…

Suddenly the wind stops and you’re elsewhere. You roll into a crouch, claws still out. The room is perfectly square, stark white, and featureless, with no glowing ball in sight. Thermo is sitting on the floor nearby, shaking his head and clearly trying to gather his wits, but none of the bits and pieces that got sucked through the portal thingie are evident.

“Greetings, test subjects.” The genderless voice comes from all sides. “Please pay close attention. The current trial will investigate certain aspects of human cognition by means of response to physical challenges. There will be several stages of increasing difficulty. Failure to successfully respond to a challenge will likely result in incapacity or cessation of the subject’s existence.”

Thermo surges to his feet. “Who the fuck are you?”

“This is PEAT.”

You grimace. “Crap.”

One of the white walls sinks into the floor, revealing an equally featureless white corridor stretching off into the distance. “Test commences in 100 seconds,” PEAT announces.

You look at Thermo. “We should cooperate, we’ll have a better chance that way.”

“Fuck that noise, bitch,” he says, lifting off. He fires a heat beam at you and you have to leap out of the way.

There’s a humming sound and the wall behind him starts to crackle with energy. Whatever it is, it doesn’t look like something you want to touch. The wall starts gliding steadily forward.

Thermo takes a look at this and stops charging up another beam. “I’m out of here. Don’t try to get in my way,” he warns. He flies over your head and out the opened side of the room into the corridor beyond.

“Worst. Date. Ever,” you mutter, and lope after him.

* * * * * *

The corridor eventually opens onto a much larger pink-colored area. You can’t tell how far it extends since there’s a haze in the air limiting your visual range. You’re sure this is deliberate.

There’s no sign of Thermo, but he can fly pretty fast and you were traveling just quick enough to stay head of the moving wall. No sense in exerting yourself if you don’t have to, nor do you want to rush blindly into whatever PEAT has planned.

You wonder what the rogue AI’s goal is this time. You’re never been in one of its “tests” before, but you’ve heard the stories from heroes who have. There was always some sort of weird psychological aspect, like the way it had made Amazonia “rescue” plastic beach balls from traps then later choose which one she sacrificed “so the rest will live,” or the time it had tried to get Wolfclaw to play checkers against himself (he’d just kept destroying the board and pieces over and over again until finally PEAT declared him “non-rational” and set him free).

Unfortunately not all the tests are so benign. Steel Eagle had been pitted against an android duplicate of himself in a fight to the death and had survived by the skin of his teeth. And Proximette had only extricated herself from a trap at the cost of her right hand. Dr. Z had built her a new mechanical one as a substitute, but she frequently complained about how it just wasn’t the same as having one that was warm and could feel and blamed it for her subsequent break-up with Free Spirit.

And of course there are a couple of known instances where a hero or villain is known to have gotten mixed up with PEAT and were never heard from again, which isn’t exactly a confidence-booster.

You put one foot on the pink floor. Unlike the hard substance of the white corridor it gives a little, though not a lot. Sort of like walking on spongy turf. The charged wall is getting closer so you take several steps into the pink chamber.

The white wall stops at the entrance, sealing it. It’s no longer humming with energy so you briefly consider seeing if you can break it down, then dismiss the idea. The portal that brought you wherever you are is clearly under the control of PEAT, there’s no reason to expect it will reappear in the room where it first dumped you.

You survey the chamber again. There’s no obvious way to go, so you might as well head directly away from the place you entered it. You start walking in that direction, keeping all your senses alert.

It ends up being your sense of smell that saves you. A patch a little to the left of the path you’re taking starts to give off a warm yeasty odor, so you veer right and hasten your step. A second later that area erupts in a geyser of thick red stuff which splashes in all directions. You leap away and only a few drops of it hit your costume.

You immediately inspect yourself. The red goo sticks but it’s not eating through the fabric or spreading. You cautiously extend a claw and poke at it, then try scraping off one of the drops. It’s reluctant to go, very gummy and adherent, but you’re able to get rid of it and your costume looks undamaged.

Another red geyser erupts farther behind you. You trot a short way forward just be make sure you’re out of range. Three more burst back in that area, along with one to your right and a bit ahead. The message is clear, you need to keep advancing or these things will start popping up under your feet. You start moving forward, making sure to watch your step.

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The old man was gaining on me – which was impressive. I had set myself a hard pace, but each time I glanced back he was closer. Close enough now that I could see him clearly, a man old enough to be my grandfather.

There was nowhere for me to hide, at least not without being so obvious about it he would suspect some mischief on my part. On the other hand, I doubted he would cause much trouble for me if he saw my green feet beneath the hem of my patched and faded yellow skirt. There was no one else around as far as the eye could see.

The path I was following was a muddy track that wound between heather-clad hills, climbing steadily. I hadn’t seen anyone else all day, only that one distant figure that now approached. He was an archer, I noted, a bow in a sheath at his back, and a quiver with a single arrow.

“Hello!” he called cheerfully, slowing to match my pace. He showed no sign of exertion, and seemed indeed as if he were out for a gentle stroll and not a long, weary hike against a bitter wind. “Hello,” he repeated, smiling in a friendly manner. “Do you mind if we walk together? I would be grateful for the company.”

I hadn’t spoken with anyone in days, not since parting from Rosa, and he seemed nice. “I’d like that,” I said.

“Where are you headed?” he asked.

“The city.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “There are no cities on this road.”

“Which road should I take, then?”

The old man laughed. “This road is as good as any, and as bad. You’re a stranger to these parts.”

It was phrased as a statement but seemed to demand an answer. I chose to give it. “I’m from the Farm.”

He whistled his surprise. “A stranger indeed. Is it true there are no monsters there?”

“The Maze keeps them out.”

“The Maze…” He shook his head. “The Maze was built to keep men out, not monsters.”

I stared at him in astonishment. “What do you mean?”

Clearly he enjoyed having such an engaged audience, even if it was only the one person. “This is a tale told to me by my father, passed down through generations,” he said. “Who can say now how much is true, and how much the embellishments of time? It is difficult for us now to imagine a time when men sailed to the stars and performed such magics that bent and breached the barriers between realms. What is easy for us to imagine, though, is that men have always sought to build barriers between themselves and the unknown.”

Indeed. “I have seen many palisades and fortress walls since leaving the Maze.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “for the world is full of monsters. The satyrs steal our women, the pixies torment all, and there is a most mischievous vine that captures men and grows inside them. But even before the monsters came, there were men who feared the magic of the old world. They built themselves a haven, a place of innocence, and guarded it with a maze.”

This was nothing like the stories told in the Farm. “But if the Maze was built before the monsters came, why do our stories say it was built to keep them out?”

“Perhaps because men are monsters,” he said with a chuckle, “or perhaps because those who built the Maze used a terrible magic to build it. A magic that protected the Farm by unleashing chaos on the rest of the world.”

He stopped suddenly and studied me with a critical eye. “I’d like to give you a gift,” he said. “Three gifts, perhaps. I am an old man whose time has come, and this is the last journey I will ever make. My wife died long ago, and my only child is a liar and a thief. He deserves nothing of mine.”

I didn’t know what to say. What do you say when a strange old man wants to shower you with gifts?

He took a gold chain with a gold medallion from his pocket. “This belonged to my wife, and I would dearly love to see you wear it.”

It was a precious gift indeed. In the Farm, gold was a rare and lustrous metal used only for wedding bands. Heavy too, for its size and delicate nature. A peculiar symbol was etched into the medallion, and I traced it curiously with my thumb. I had never worn jewellery before, and I was eager to see how it looked about my neck.

The old man helped, fastening it for me, and the medallion felt both cool and warm against my skin. “My wife was a priestess,” he said, “her medallion blessed by the goddess. She knew how to give a man pleasure, and her skill with her mouth made her famous indeed. I would dearly love to feel that again.”

Suddenly I wanted it too. I, who had no desire for either men or cocks, wanted nothing more than to kneel before this kind old man and take his cock in my mouth. I didn’t question the desire. There on the path, hills and heather in all directions, I knelt and waited patiently for him to drop his trousers and reveal his engorged length.

I had never had a cock in my mouth before, though I remembered too well the taste of the satyrs. Somehow I knew what to do, and the anticipation was erzurum escort delicious. I looked up into his eager eyes as I licked his shaft and sucked lovingly on the head. With tongue and lips I excited him, taking him gradually deeper into my mouth, teasing him in between, humming happily as I did.

The medallion vibrated gently against my chest, as if it too was excited by my mouth. “I’m sorry for tricking you like this,” he said. “Only a stranger unfamiliar with the goddess would dare wear such a medallion. How could I resist.”

I knew he was telling me something important, but I was too focused on giving him pleasure to think about it. To feel his hard flesh urgent with desire between my lips was wonderful. He held my hair and thrust deeper, until I was forced to take him into my throat – and again, somehow, I understood how to do it. He fucked my mouth slowly as if it were my pussy, and my real pussy tingled as if in sympathy.

Without touching myself at all, the tension was building. The old man’s cock was making me dizzy from lack of air, and I was close to an inexplicable climax. I managed to push him away for a moment, enough to catch my breath, and then he plunged in between my lips again, hard and demanding, his grip on my hair tight and unyielding.

The medallion throbbed against my chest, and beneath my long, thick, woollen skirt my clitoris echoed that throbbing need. I massaged my breasts through my leather tunic and squeezed my swollen nipples.

Until finally his cock stiffened in my mouth, in my throat, and his cum poured into me, and I wanted to scream because I too convulsed in pleasure as if we were one, our climax shared.

He released me at last and I gasped for air, the taste of him in my mouth, a growing confusion in my thoughts over why I had agreed to this perversity and indeed why I had enjoyed it so much. His words were forgotten. The medallion was just a medallion. A simple gift.

“Come,” he said, fixing his trousers and grinning happily. “We’ve a long way to go yet.”

Still shaking in the aftermath of that extraordinary pleasure, I struggled to my feet and hurried after him.

*

As dark fell, we came across a stone hut by the road, a waystation for travellers such as us. “I would normally have reached home by now,” the old man said, “but your company is well worth the delay.”

Together we started a fire and warmed ourselves, sharing some hot, vegetable broth and mugs of ale. I was unused to alcohol, and the drink had my head spinning for a good while. Outside, the air was crisp and the stars bright and spinning too.

“The snow will be falling soon,” he said. “The mountains will soon be impassable.”

“We had snow at the Farm once,” I replied dreamily. “It covered the fields for a whole day, and we made mountains out of it for play.” I laughed. “Of course, we had never seen real mountains, and knew of them only from stories.”

Indeed, the closer I drew to the mountains, the more majestic they were. They were like a wall across the world more formidable even than the Maze had been. And I was determined to cross them.

My head cleared slowly, and the old man and I sat together by the fire in a comfortable silence. I was still confused about what had happened between us earlier, but the pleasure had been mutual, if unexpected.

“How good is your aim?” he asked, pointing at my sling.

“Good enough to catch dinner,” I said, and added with a laugh, “so long as dinner stays close and doesn’t run.” I had made a habit of collecting stones of just the right shape and weight, and the pockets of my leather tunic were heavy as a result.

The tunic and sling, along with my knife and backpack, I had stolen from a camp of armed men while the watchman slept on duty. I had stolen a shirt for Rosa too, though it had fit her poorly, and had been tempted to steal a proper weapon. But that had not been possible, not without risking discovery.

The old man handed me his sheathed bow and his quiver with its solitary arrow. “My second gift for you,” he said. “This bow is as old as the Maze, and will likely still be young when you are old. It is light in weight and true in aim, although it does require some strength to draw it. My arms are no longer what they were.”

It was indeed an instrument of beauty, and I could feel its magic tingling against my fingertips as the old man taught me how to knock and aim the arrow, how to place my feet and lift my arm.

His hands caressed my skin, and his breath was hot against my neck, and the medallion vibrated against my chest. As easily as that, I was aroused again. “Shame there’s only one arrow,” I murmured.

“Only one is needed,” he whispered back. “I would love to see you undressed.”

I nodded, eager as well for him to see me thus. Sheltered from the brittle night in that hut by the base eskişehir escort of the mountains, we were all alone and the fire was warm. We undressed together, man and woman, old and young, human and not quite. His gaze lingered with curiosity on my green, monstrous legs, but he seemed untroubled by it. He lifted his hands to my breasts, cupping them, his thumbs caressing my sensitive nipples, and as I sighed with excitement he said, “She who wears the medallion belongs to the goddess. We say priestess, but the truth is deeper than that. She is an aspect of the goddess, and like all goddesses she rewards those who give her gifts of value.”

I wasn’t interested in his words. It was his warm, fragile hands on my breasts that interested me, and the hard cock pressing against my belly, vigorous despite its age. He lay down on the wooden floor and I straddled him there, guiding him into me with a sigh of pleasure.

“Do you in the Farm still worship the gods?” he asked.

I had been used against my will so many times, it was strange to be the one in control. Strange too to be enjoying it so. I settled into a gentle but steady rhythm, fearful of breaking him beneath me as I thrust against him. Though he was nothing compared to the satyrs, he filled me well, and the friction sent shivers of excitement through my clitoris. His hands continued their manipulation of my breasts, adding to the array of sensations, and the medallion almost sang with echoes of pleasure.

“Of course,” I said. “We hold feasts in their honour and thank them daily for their blessings. For keeping us safe from the monsters and the evils of the outside world. For ensuring that our crops grow well and that our children are born healthy. For the gift of love that binds us all.”

The old man’s hands moved to my hips, urging me to take him deeper, and faster. “But do you remember where they came from? That when men went to the stars, they brought the gods back with them? That there was a time when there were no gods, so we went out to find them?”

His words were too confusing. I wanted him to focus on pleasure, not talk to me of irreverent fantasies. I picked up the pace, slamming my hips down harder than ever, my breasts bouncing wildly above his face. And there was pleasure. Pleasure for us both. The tension was building swiftly in me and I could see the strain in his expression. “Do it,” I begged him. “I need it.”

He grabbed my breasts, one at a time, sucking fiercely on my nipples. I wanted to scream, I was so close. And suddenly I was there, tumbling over the precipice into ecstasy as his cock pulsed inside me, his cum tickling me inside. “Yes!” I screamed, exulting in the victory of the moment, my body convulsing in a delicious release of tension. “Yes,” I cried, loving each sweet, blissful contraction, wishing there would be no end.

But wondering again why I had submitted so easily to his seduction… Was it out of pity for his age, perhaps? Or gratitude for the gift of a bow? Or was I developing needs I’d never had before? I didn’t find him attractive, but I couldn’t deny the shared pleasure of the act itself, even if afterwards I couldn’t help feeling dirty and used.

Deeply confused, I disengaged from the old man, his cum leaking from my pussy and running down my thighs. “Thank you, Priestess,” he said as he dressed again, and eventually I found the strength to clean myself and do likewise. It was a strange thing for him to call me, but I assumed he was thinking of his wife, and perhaps that was why I had been so willing to do what I had never in my life wanted to do to a man.

“You’re welcome,” I said, and didn’t object as we lay together with his arm protectively about me.

*

In the morning we rose early and were quickly on our way, and again I was struck by how effortlessly he kept pace with me. Old man or not, he seemed fit as a fiddle. I liked how cheerful he was, and I liked how indifferent he was to my mutation. I shied away from thoughts of what we’d done the previous day, and was quite determined there would be no repeat.

The mountains loomed ahead, closer and higher than ever, even as the path we followed wound higher too. In the distance I saw a hare, too far away for me to hit it with any certainty using my sling. The old man guided me again in how to stand and aim with the bow, my muscles straining to hold the string taut – and then the arrow flew… and missed. The hare raced away for dear life, and with a heavy sigh I started off to retrieve my one and only arrow.

Chuckling, the old man held me back. “No need,” he said, pointing to my quiver that again held a single arrow. “One arrow. Always. And that was good for a first try.”

My second try, a little later, was better. My third hit the target, and my fourth killed it. I loved my deadly new weapon.

Shortly before noon, gaziantep escort we arrived at the small village where the old man lived, and he invited me in for a farewell lunch. We had fresh meat, after all, and there was a cask of ale to wash it down. Pleasantly drunk, we sat together for a while, exchanging tales of gods and heroes.

“Grateful as I am for your hospitality,” I said, standing up at last, “I have wasted enough time.”

“Ah, but wait,” he said. “I have one last gift for you.”

He handed me his boots, and I looked at them uncertainly. At first glance they seemed no different to any other old, leather boots, but I felt in them the tingle of magic and despite their battered appearance they were sturdy and well stitched. “Try them on,” he said. “They are sure to fit, and they will make light of any journey.”

I nodded slowly in understanding. These boots were what had given him such tireless strength and speed, and indeed they fit perfectly my misshapen feet. I stared at them in amazement. Between skirt and boots, my green, inhuman legs were concealed, and comfortably so. “Thank you,” I said quietly, and nearly burst into tears.

“My wife loved to wear those boots,” he said. “They were my first gift for her. I asked her to bend over and offer me her ass, and of course she did. Will you offer me yours, Priestess?”

Of course I did. There was no need even to undress. I turned round and lifted my skirt, and remembered how good that muddy finger had felt as it slithered into me, and how dirty I had felt to be used in my sleep by the gang of pixies. But this was different. I wanted it this time. Twice before, the old man and I had shared an exquisite pleasure, and this third time would surely be the best for us both. “My ass is yours,” I said seductively, looking back at him.

The medallion pulsed against my chest and my pussy tingled with excitement, but my ass was hungry for cock and I watched impatiently as the old man undressed to reveal a hard cock ready to deliver. “One day,” he said, “you will understand how cruelly I have used you. I dare say you will hate me.”

I couldn’t imagine anything of the sort. Mostly I just wanted him to get to work. “But I will be dead by then,” he continued, “and you will be far away. I won’t ask you to forgive me, but I hope you will forgive yourself.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” I growled, and he chuckled.

One finger, then two fingers, slick with cooking fat, squeezed into my tight rear entrance, working back and forth, preparing me. The dirtiness of it was as thrilling as the fingers themselves, but I wanted more – and then he gave me more. I moaned in ecstasy, my ass blissfully stretched by his wonderful cock as he forced it gently but firmly into me. The sensation of it was mind-blowing.

It was as if a long-repressed need was finally being met. I couldn’t get enough of it. “Goddess, yes,” I cried, wanting more, wanting so much more.

He gave me all, thrusting in until his hips were tight against my cheeks, and when he withdrew slowly I nearly whined with complaint. But he was going nowhere. It was merely preparation, the cruel tease before the exquisite thrust. He was not so old that he didn’t have the strength to ram his cock hard into my ass, the stretching and the friction and that final impact all forcing a cry of pleasure from my lips. He was not so old that he lacked the stamina to use me well and thoroughly.

How long he pounded away I cannot begin to guess. I wanted him never to stop. I wanted him to make me scream and still not be done. I was leaning with one hand against the wall, the other grabbing at my breasts through leather, pinching my nipples till they hurt, and my pussy was so aroused I could feel the wetness on my thighs.

But it was my ass the old man wanted and I could feel how good it was for him, because his pleasure was my pleasure, his hunger was my hunger, and when he finished at last, his climax was my climax. I screamed in ecstasy as he drove in deep and stiffened, and then we convulsed together for an age, my ass contracting rhythmically about his cock as it jerked and spat cum deep inside me.

*

I kissed him affectionately on the cheek as I left. He was a kind man who had given me three amazing gifts and three astonishing climaxes, and I would miss him for sure. Still, I set off with a spring in my step, the path through the mountains no longer quite so daunting, and what an adventure that proved to be. Fantastic views of the forests and lakes behind me, and of the vast ocean ahead of me. Terrifying snowfall that blanketed the ground erasing all sign of the path and safety. I nearly froze to death and nearly fell to my death and nearly starved to death, but luck and sheer determination got me through at last.

From time to time along the way, I may have traced the curious symbol on the medallion and remembered the old man’s talk of the goddess. Once or twice, on the edge of sleep, I may even have put all the pieces together. But whenever, at the point of revelation, I reached for the necklace, intending to tear it from my neck, I would forget why I was so angry and remember only the pleasures shared.

Like it or not, the goddess had claimed me, and my body was no longer entirely my own.

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“Good evening, Dr. Manville,” said Prometheus.

Lance opened his eyes. Prometheus was clothed again, and Lance was still not.

“What have you done to Dana?”

“Dr. Lindstrom is fine. Athena is taking good care of her. Congratulations on your accomplishment. You are the first humans to have survived breeding.”

Breeding?

“Yes, Dr. Manville,” said Prometheus. “I hope this has become more clear to you now. Tell me something — is it true you had never met Dr. Lindstrom before three days ago? That is remarkable.”

“Why is that remarkable?”

“Look between your legs,” said Prometheus.

Lance looked down to see that his penis had grown and was semi-erect.

“Your body is responding to Dr. Lindstrom’s presence … even though she’s not within your presence,” said Prometheus. “Each of you produces certain hormones as part of your reproductive drives. As part of this … experiment, I made you sensitive to hers, and she is now sensitive to yours. I merely mention her name, and see how you react. I suspect Dr. Lindstrom is having a similar physical reaction to you right now, where she is.”

“Where is the real Socrates Prometheus?”

Prometheus responded with a look of mock indignation. “What do you think I am? A body-snatcher?” Then he laughed. “I am Socrates Prometheus. I have not assumed anyone’s identity. … At least, for your purposes I am Socrates Prometheus.”

“Clearly, you’re not human.”

“On that, you are correct,” said Prometheus, bowing slightly. “My race comes from … a planet … many of your light-years from your Earth. Suffice to say you are unlikely to find it in your lifetime.”

“What are you doing on Earth?”

“Well, there are few explanations that would make sense, are there?” said Prometheus. “I must say that this is one of the facets of these bodies that I truly enjoy. You humans question everything. You debate incessantly. It is, I must say, a mentally stimulating exercise. Our race is more … complaisant.”

Manville stared at Prometheus. Had it not been for the previous two days, the conversation would have been something created under the influence of some kind of drug.

“We are actually not dissimilar to yourselves,” said Prometheus. “Our planet has similar environmental conditions to this one. Nitrogen/oxygen atmosphere. We are both carbon-based lifeforms.

“You could live on our planet … except that you cannot. And we cannot. Our sun is dying, and with that our own planet. It won’t happen immediately, but it is happening. When our sun dies, our planet will die, and most of us will die.

“But not our race. I was charged by our leaders with finding an alternative world for our people. And I have found it.”

“You plan on taking over the Earth?”

“In a manner of speaking … but not perhaps as you think. I found this planet, and this is now my home. The technology you see here came from the ship that transported me here. It was … how do you humans put it … a one-way trip.

“I lost contact with my home planet once my ship left our solar system. When I left, my planet was building more ships. I have waited for their signal. So far, there is none. As far as I know, I am alone here on Earth.”

Prometheus leaned back. “I have had to find … other means to propagate our species.”

“You’re shape-shifters. You can’t just wave a magic wand and create another version of yourself?”

“We have limited shape-shifting ability. It was necessary to take a human form for obvious reasons.”

“Is Athena one of your kind?”

“No, she is a human,” said Prometheus. “She was part of our earlier breeding experiments. Those failed, but I decided she could be useful in … other ways, which I believe you and Dr. Lindstrom have experienced. She has the ability to stimulate males and females of your species, which was necessary to begin the breeding process.”

“So I noticed,” said Lance. “You said we’re ‘not dissimilar’ to yourself.”

“Correct. And that’s where you and Dr. Lindstrom come in. … We can assume other forms. But we cannot reproduce in a form other than our own. And we … I have discovered düzce escort that we cannot reproduce in our own form on this planet. As … interesting as your reproductive methods are, they do not succeed in reproduction in this form. We need … surrogates … to pass on our genetic material and allow us to reproduce.

“I injected you with our genetic material. You injected Dr. Lindstrom so she could, as you would put it, ‘give birth.’ And Aithousa is the result. The two of you are the first to have successfully reproduced us. You have ensured our survival on this planet.”

“So how did Dana and I get to have this honor?”

Prometheus smiled. “Given what I’ve learned about humans, I surmised that creating a mystery would make humans seek out that mystery to solve it. I orbited your planet for several months before I chose this location for landing. Our metal makes our ships undetectable when we want them to be undetectable.

“Once my island was activated, you Americans became curious. That was my, how do you put it, ‘bait.’ I have been experimenting with breeding since I arrived here nearly eight of your years ago. Some of the incidents you attribute to what you call the Bermuda Triangle were my selecting participants.”

Lance was stunned.

“You have what you call your ‘scientific method.’ That well describes what finding the right formula for reproduction required. I discovered I could not reproduce here myself, so I had to find alternate methods for reproduction. I had to find appropriate candidates, and I had to determine the correct genetic adjustments. This took considerable time.”

“Yeah, when your subjects keep dying on you, that has to slow things down.”

“When one’s survival is at stake, one does what one must do.”

“How many people have you killed?”

“Your selective application of morality is interesting. How many people did you kill to win your second world war? How many noncombatants did you kill to win that war? How many people did you kill to preserve a stalemate in your most recent conflict? … Shall I bring up the number of your aborigines you killed when your race colonized your country? Shall I bring up those you killed because they worshiped differently from you?”

“If you think you’re going to impress me with your superior morality, think again.”

“I never intended for any of my participants to die.”

“I doubt you cared.”

“Dead animals do not reproduce. When one’s survival is at stake, one does what one must do. It took time to find a successful way to reproduce through human participation.

“Now that we have successfully bred you, ultimately, we will take this planet as our own.”

Manville gave Prometheus a quizzical look.

“It’s a matter of mathematics and time, Dr. Manville,” said Prometheus. “Humans require nine months to reproduce, and then more than a decade to reach maturity for your reproductive purposes. At most, a human woman could give birth to 15 to 20 children over the course of two or three decades. And each of those children would require upwards of 20 years to reach reproductive age.

“We’ve now proven that with human hosts, we can reproduce in a few of your minutes. And with our superior intellects and our shape-shifting abilities, we can infiltrate the governments of your planet … and we will control this planet before humans can do anything about it.”

Prometheus paused. “This is necessary not merely to allow us to live here. It is necessary to preserve this planet of yours. Consider your two most powerful countries, with the most powerful weapons known to your species, busily developing them in order to destroy each other. And this 10 of your years after the most destructive war in your history.”

“Our earlier breeding experiments were not successful with Athena. But you and Dr. Lindstrom were successful in creating Aithousa. You are our first breeding stock. Soon, we will create our next offspring.”

Lance started at Prometheus.

“This must be difficult for you to absorb,” said Prometheus. “Perhaps you and Dr. Lindstrom can absorb edirne escort this together.”

Prometheus got up and left. Shortly afterward, Athena led Dana in.

“How do you feel?” asked Dana, sitting on Lance’s bed.

“I’m … I’m fine, I guess,” said Lance. Other than the fact that I want to fuck you all the time, he thought. His penis was hard once again.

“Do you remember anything?”

“I woke up. We were in the lab. And … I’m … I’m not sure what happened.”

“I can tell you what happened. I … gave birth. And I think you’re the father.”

“Oh, God,” said Lance, realizing that his jumble of bizarre erotic memories — Athena going down on both of them, some weird monster sodomizing him, him raping Dana — wasn’t just a nightmare or a hallucination. His head fell forward against his knees. “I … I’m sorry …”

Dana shook her head and hugged Lance. “I don’t know what’s happening to us. Prometheus must be doing something to us.”

And I want to do something to you, Dana thought to herself. Which was the exact same thing Lance was thinking to himself.

“Ever since the plane crash … you know, I never … made love to anyone before we got here.” Dana’s head was on her knees, her legs covering up her chest and her genitals. “And I swear that I can’t think of anything now except …” She turned to Lance. “You.”

Lance was staring at the wall, trying to focus and to not look at her. He knew what would happen if he just looked at her.

He turned to look at her anyway. She was close enough to kiss.

They kissed. For an entire minute.

Lance pulled her into his arms. Dana swung her leg over so she straddled his hips. She held his head in her hands as she lowered herself onto his penis.

She leaned her head back. Lance kissed her throat. He took her breasts in his hands and felt them. He kissed her breasts and started sucking on her nipples.

“Oh God,” she breathed as her arousal spiraled once again out of her control. She came, arching her body back, her sex tightening on his penis.

Dana’s orgasm sent Lance over the edge. He came, arching back until his head and back hit the floor.

Dana lay down on top of Lance, his penis still inside her, still hard.

While lying on his chest, Dana tried to figure out what was happening to them. When he wasn’t in the same room with her, her heart literally hurt. When he was next to her, she wanted him. When he was inside her … well, that was obvious. And when they had finished, she wanted him again, and more.

I must be going insane, she thought. Or I’m in love.

She thought maybe if they could stop, she could think rationally, clinically, logically. Instead, she lifted herself only as far as to be able to go back down onto his penis. She put her hands onto his chest. She felt his hands on her hips and on her ass.

Lance had eight bleeding fingernail marks on his chest and, though he couldn’t see them, another 10 on his back. He couldn’t have cared less.

“I think I know what’s happening,” said Dana.

“I know what’s happening,” said Lance. I’ve had as much sex in the past two days as I’ve had in the rest of my life, he thought.

“I mean biologically.” She paused. “Female animals have reproductive cycles. Males can … try to reproduce whenever they want. Females only produce eggs every so often. Female dogs go into heat every six months. Women ovulate every four weeks.

“Female animals give off signals when they’re ovulating. That’s how males know that it’s time to breed with them. Humans can have sex whenever they want, but they can’t reproduce whenever they want — only when the woman is ovulating.”

“Which means what?”

“I think my body is turning you on. Continually.”

“You don’t need a medical degree to figure that out.”

“But you’re turning me on too.” Every second we’re awake, she added silently. Including right now. Again. “Somehow something biological, or chemical, or maybe both is happening.”

They kissed again for another minute. Lance pushed upward inside Dana.

Dana rolled back her elazığ escort head, the urge welling up in her again. It was as if Lance and Dana were fated to be together, loving each other, making each other climax.

Whether or not they were fated to be together, that’s what happened again, Dana screaming, Lance groaning as their climaxes met each other.

Lance lay back down, covered with sweat and by Dana.

“Think of it this way,” she said, out of breath. “Reproduction is one of the most basic urges of life — any kind of life. The sex drive is one of the basic human urges. Do men think about sex all the time?”

Lance gave a short laugh. “Depends.”

“All of the time?”

“Well … not all of the time. There’s food and drinking too.”

“The difference between humans and other animals is that we are supposed to be able to control our urges. Something changed us so our sex drive has been turned way up.”

That’s the understatement of the year, Lance thought to himself.

“Tell me this: When we were in Nevada, or in Florida, did you want to have sex with me?”

Lance wasn’t sure how to answer that. “I’m not sure how to put this. … Men are turned on by women. Men always look at women. … I was attracted to you visually.”

“So what stopped you from trying to have sex with me?” What’s stopping you right now? she thought to herself. Can’t you tell I want you?

Lance wasn’t sure how to answer that either. “Well, I didn’t know you. Most men don’t think of life as a giant stag magazine. We didn’t exactly have time for dinner and a movie either.”

“Inhibitions. Social barriers.”

“Well … yeah.”

“All of those inhibitions have been taken away here.”

“So what did we do?”

Dana thought. “I … we … gave birth. I think we’re surrogates … substitutes. I think Socrates inoculated you with whatever serves as semen in his species, and you impregnated me. Or Socrates must have given you whatever it is his species needs to reproduce, and I gave birth to it. Her.”

“Socrates said something about Athena’s being part of earlier … breeding attempts. And he said we were the first to survive breeding. I think that’s how he put it. So we must not be the first here.

“There’s another thing. Do you feel attracted to Athena?”

Lance wasn’t sure what she was getting at. “Well, yes.” He thought. “I’m attracted to her. I mean, she’s beautiful … but it’s … not like with you.” Jesus, I sound like a love-smitten 16-year-old, he thought.

He could tell from the look in her eyes that she felt the same way about him.

“What are we going to do?” she said.

“We have to figure out how to get out of here. He’s trying to propagate his own species with us to take over this planet. We can’t let that happen.”

“We’re going to be kicked out of the Garden of Eden again,” said Dana.

“I think I’ve figured out his computer arrangement.” Lance’s engineering brain had kicked in. “He’s got several computers running things in that lab. They probably control the whole island.”

“If I knew more about engineering, I’d probably be impressed.”

“That metal isn’t transparent by itself. Otherwise, all this would be transparent. He’s got some kind of … I don’t know, projection machine or something to make this all invisible. And it has to be solar-powered. That would explain how it doesn’t show up during the day, but it does at night. Probably when he doesn’t have other power running.”

Dana couldn’t resist anymore. She tightened her legs around Lance’s, which tightened her vagina’s grip on his penis.

They resumed kissing, their tongues meeting while he thrusted inside her. It took them only a few minutes to climax again.

“You have to promise something,” said Dana after she caught her breath. “You have to take me with you when you figure out how to escape.”

Lance stroked the side of her face. “We’re either going together, or we’re not going. I’m not leaving you here. I’m not leaving you.”

“Excellent,” said Prometheus, walking into Lance’s room. “Your attraction for each other is more than physical. You are now emotionally mated too.”

Prometheus noted the look on his prisoners’ faces. “Come now, doctors. You must admit you have never had sexual pleasure the likes of which you have had on this island. You think of nothing but each other.”

Suddenly, from beyond the walls could be heard an otherworldly scream. That was followed by a human scream.

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Gwen woke up stuffy and uncomfortably warm, the cause for this was the muscular radiator of Balin. Still sleeping, his huge mass deformed the bed, dragging her into the centre. A mental inventory was essential, she still couldn’t believe what was happening, even if the evidence spoke for itself.

Sliding out of bed and he barely stirred. After the ‘not sex’ he’d fallen asleep rapidly. She’d have been insulted but her body wasn’t far behind him,, she’d quickly showered, the evidence of his lust for had got everywhere. After that she’d laid down with him just to help him sleep, and now it was four hours later.

She got up and tried to navigate her ancient bedroom, trying to ignore the two realities, that this is the bed she always slept in and one that hadn’t existed for decades. The dissonance was intense, she had foggy memories of this place at best, but also knew it intimately.

The room itself was also back to its old form, tired wallpaper and high ceilings from which hung a particularly gothic chandelier of antlers strung with lights, a little art of her own, a spell that had fused a load of cheap antlers into a single sphere of horns. It was actually better than she remembered.

Her bedside table was strewn with bits, she blushed as she quickly slung the vibrator and lube that marked last night’s loneliness. It was an odd sensation, feeling embarrassed about something that she was normally so positive about. The nature of True Gwen’s battling Classic Gwen’s habits was infuriating.

Tidying, she did find her Black Berry which she swiped. She tried to remember the rest of her day and checked her wardrobe, her clothes were there, there was even an outfit she’d picked out but had never worn given how this day had gone the first time. She was still naked, but the prepared clothes felt off.

She’d been experimenting with who she was, or at least that’s what she’d believed at the time, right now looking at the black clothing, which ranged from stringy to sheer, all she could do was grimace. It was like she believed if she brought enough of this kind of stuff she’d start feeling normal in it. It also was far from the style she’d cultivated over the last few decades, being excessively goth.

She’d ditched the goth thing along time ago, it had seemed on brand considering she was a Lilith, often thought of as a sex demon. Despite the fact hell was a lie, as was heaven, it had good branding. As time had gone on and persecution had begun as people like her cursed with certain touches of heritage associated with sin, well continuing that narrative felt like she was betraying those who just wanted a normal life.

She did pick up the bra, even if it was a lacy monstrosity, it was actually supportive which was a blessing. Also there was a pair of long socks, ideal to keep her legs warm, the marble downstairs could get chilly..

Clipping the bra on she glanced down and sighed. The clothes were only part of the problem which extended to the piercings and the tattoos. That though was a more perverse need, like if she decorated herself with enough nicknacks and gewgaws the general shininess would have some bird take an interest and drag her back to its nest to investigate closer.

She glanced at the slumbering giant in the bed. Still even in her own head she tried to pretend there hadn’t been a specific person she’d been hoping would one day spot a glint, a shadow under clothing and ask to see. And now that he finally took a look Classic Gwen was cartwheeling around the room while the True Gwen sat in the corner and smoked a celebratory joint, neither certain it was real.

As she moved to find some plainer, comfier gear she tripped over his training bag. It was open and she could see a hoodie peeking out, she pulled it on, noticing that there was a little birthday gift hiding at the bottom. She resisted temptation and focused on getting out of the room. The last thing to do was step over the Damsel Blade.

The awful thing lay on the floor, the dark iron drank in what little light her phone screen gave off. She remembered the time she’d been stabbed by it and took an extra wide step. The sword was a magical black hole, an endless pit that practically no Arcane power could escape. She resisted the urge to move it out of her way, knowing well how it might take that damn thing was catty!

In the hall, it was just as it had been when Bellamy was alive. Redesigning almost felt as if she was scrambling his memory. Erasing him from the Sanctuary that he’d protected with such dedication. It would also be scrubbing away her childhood, the places she’d played, the furniture she’d bumped into, the floor boards she’d learnt to avoid when walking late at night. It was a lot.

Time to get things sorted, “Thera.” she called.

From round a corner Thera appeared. Thera was the soul of the Sanctuary, her home. Currently a projection of a Gargoyle, while mostly looking like any other human her skin was white and polished, the other notable difference was the tail, it was far sturdier bursa escort than Gwen’s whip like appendage, hers was about as wide as a palm where it met her back and came to a blunt tip over it’s three foot of length.

She was about a head taller than Gwen, with straight black hair, made of unbelievably flexible strands of marble, gathered in a serious bun. This combined with her frankly amazing rack and chosen fashion style of a serious figure hugging pencil skirt, shirt and blazer, made her look like a librarian who was conservative in the stacks but liberal in the bedroom. Despite looking fully formed Gwen knew that right now she was just a rough outline of a person, not the fully fledged individual she was to become.

“Hello Gwen, this is a turn up for the books, you have achieved your objective.” The voice sounded friendly enough but the mismatch of colloquialism and blunt robotocisms was almost painful. An element of her past she’d almost forgotten in favour of remembering the whole amazing person Thera became.

“Thera it’s really good to see you. What seems different about me also was the house affected by any magic last night?” She had to fight down the urge to reach out and pull her into a kiss. Thera had been her partner in all things, but right now. Right now she was practically a child, even if she didn’t look like one.

“You seem taller, more gobby.” the voice was monotone, but occasional words gave glimpses into the person it was to become. Gwen smiled, gobby had always been a compliment. “As for incursions, none that I am aware of but I’m still not working at full capacity. It is possible that things might slip past me.”

“Could you recheck the security and wards around the house, I don’t want anything in or out today, I’m worried about any kind of signals, magic, radio, smoke! Nothing to disturb my day” Gwen descended down to the Sanctuary proper, leaving behind the decoy house and sinking to the space below.

“It is done.” Thera walked after her, her path occasionally taking her through walls or pieces of furniture. She’d forgotten about this completely, right now despite looking rock solid the Gargoyle was totally intangible. At least she hadn’t discovered that through a kiss.

“Great, can you let me know if he leaves the room, and now can you ready the scrying room for me” She was in the part of the Sanctuary that was outside the real world, a realm between the Mundane and Arcane. The rooms and designs changed, the Sanctuary had sampled the great civilizations of ancient earth, Roman, Greek, Mesopotamian, Chinese, Egyptian and others she couldn’t recognize were all found here jumbled atop each other.

The different style vied for position, sometimes rearranging the very room she was in, they all made a lot of use of stone though. Glad of the socks, her focus was on the cold flagstones in front of her, trying to remember the path and ignore how the walls were breathing.

“I’ll let you know if your beau wakes. Though, I did not believe you had found the scrying room yet” Thera was just an observer, but the question felt like a slap.

She cursed, how easy it was to reveal that she had future knowledge, it was part of the reason she wanted to block out everyone. She looked at Thera. The Sanctuary had picked up enough from her and the others who owned to create a person, a seed of a soul but until the Arcane rose in power she’d still be only part way there. She was utterly trustworthy and loyal, and now as Gwen reeled from the events of the morning and days before even a rough chatbot version of Thera was better than nothing.

“Look, just follow me to the scrying room, I’ll explain.”

——————————–

She sat in a greasy spoon, it followed the tried and tested formula of many others in the city, plastic bucket seats anchored to cheap tables, large portions of greasy food, and lashings of toast. She used to like meeting in places like this. It was neutral territory, and if you kick off in a spoon everyone tends to want as little do with you as possible.

Despite the quiet music background of radio 2 and the calm clink of cutlery on plates she couldn’t settle. Her limited pool of luck was drying up, in likelihood mopped up by Frank who used a constant supply just to get through a day. She had some escape from him though, he was in toilets, defiling it in some manner. He was grim.

She pondered the morning. It was 9 at the moment, when the kid hadn’t run past by 7 they’d finally given up. She’d ditched Frank who’d been sent to check the training hall and she’d then gone on to the target’s house.

Their was a willow near the house, bare in the winter but even it’s thin whip like branches were enough to shield her from nosy neighbours in the winter gloom. She scaled it with ease, fingers gripping the wood, the edges blurring as the she let out just a shred of the beast beneath.

Up top she’d stared into the window, till her eyes, designed by evolution for çanakkale escort staring into the dark, adjusted and showed the empty room. She could smell his housemate, even through the weed and maybe a little incense, there was an undertone of magic to him like the smell of blossom and earth. It smelt good, far better than anything else in the rundown little house, but it also had a power to it that tugged at the beast, made it want to go catch salmon or piss on a tree. She avoided the pothead, he was powerful.

A sniff outside the target’s digs after she got out of the tree had confirmed he had come home, but a stronger scent said maybe he’d left some hours after. Unfortunately the house was near a tube station and by the time she’d been able to follow the scent their untold masses had destroyed the trail.

She’d then done a quick circuit, the bar was shuttered as normal, the uni library was one option, but she stood outside for a while sorting through scents while trying to ignore the smoke wafting from the tobacco industries fresh converts who huddled outside, desperately trying to convince themselves this counted as ‘only smoking socially’. It took a while but she felt confident enough in his nose to say the target hadn’t been here either.

The target was a man of routine. His morning started at 5-6 running down to the training hall, after that study, after that he saw friends or just did more training,he frequented a pub sometimes when he relaxed but that was closed till midday. The only other option was the girls, neither of which struck her as being early birds and he wasn’t sleeping with them either, despite them both buttering him up so much it was a wonder he hadn’t been stabbed clean through by sexual tension.

She didn’t like this job at all. She’d been lured into it which was a first, part of her personal circumstance was that she didn’t really have a reputation. People really didn’t come find her, she found them. No one knew her name, and no one gave her one that stuck. She didn’t have one. That was a power in itself. Frank obviously talked with her, but if anyone asked him about person they’d been talking to his descriptions could be anything, even jumbling gender and skin tone. The waitress who had just dropped off two teas would most likely fill her in with an average member of clientele.

Frank seemed to have decided she was just another crook. He also seemed to have decided she was a man, or was so deeply misogynistic as to think any normal woman would tolerate how he spoke of the fairer sex. Here he returned. He reeked. Thankfully the overpowering smell of grease and fried food neutralised the worst of it.

“See I’m telling you, we’re wasting our time. He’s gotta be at one of the girls’ places getting his rocks off. See I wouldn’t mind the goth, she’s got a nice rack, perky and that arse could crack nuts, in two ways I bet. Probably crazy stuff in the sack. But Barbie, she looks like she’s got some experience, and I don’t mind the flat chest as she has plenty of junk in the trunk.” Frank spoke loud enough that the waitress gave him a death stare.

“Shut up about the girls, I don’t give a fuck about what you think they look like. Don’t you think this is weird, our target’s been pretty reliable.”

“Nah he just got lucky. In more ways than one. See with that angry fucker gone he’s probably stretching his legs. Told you we should’ve done it that last evening, but did you listen?” Frank applied liberal lashings of brown sauce to his steaming plate, ignoring the side order of scowl the waitress had delivered it with. He then tucked in.

She tried to ignore the sound of greedy consumption and focus on her other problem. Frank was always lucky, she wasn’t even sure if he knew he was touched by the Arcane. He was a human equivalent of weighted dice. He should be rolling in money but his innovative incompetence meant his luck could just about ensure his continued existence.

The luck didn’t seem to extend to his job. The one day the target was due a surprise and he’d suddenly vanished. Coincidences didn’t happen, not like that. Something was off and this client while a bastard had given very specific instructions, with contingencies. This kind of feeling being one of them.

She’d known the client was powerful, probably a mage of some sort, you’d have to have some serious power to hold a conversation with her properly, or at least remember the last one you had. Also the reward he’d offered, it was too much for anyone who didn’t have the kind of magic from the old days. Now though she was nervous, clients shouldn’t know how the plans worked, they also shouldn’t be predicting plans going wrong. It’s bad news to get involved in the business of those with one eye in the future, they tend to know just how far they can push you, and just how easy it would be to bury you.

Over the sound of Radio 2 spilling out from the kitchen the street noise increased as the door opened, and the client arrived, rize escort grey suit, smiling face and dead eyes. Time to break the news.

——————————–

The scrying room was a perfect example of Sanctuary’s magic. It was a space that couldn’t possibly fit in the house, and even if it could fit it would be utterly out of place. The classical greek columns, the 10m across silver mirror, the historically anachronous stained glass that dotted every wall and caught a sun far different to the murky grey light of sunrise in winter was perhaps the best indication.

The Sanctuary was an artefact from the original height of magic, the top two floors were a disguise that had managed to keep up with the times shaped by the minds of the previous owners, under that veneer of normality was a warren of rooms from the golden age of magic.

These spaces all floated around there wasn’t a floor plan or map, if you got lost you’d always end up back up stairs or in the library, which was filled with books written in enough dead languages to fill a graveyard.

Even Classic Gwen could control the house reasonably well, and she had even started to explore reshuffling the rooms upstairs. The pokey two up two down was cramping her style. Bellamy had raised her to take on the mantle of guardianship of the house, not knowing that magic was about to come back with a vengeance. He’d taught her magic and taught her about the warring factions of Practitioners who sort to control it.

As she’d explained she’d cast a number of spells, surprised by how tough they were to cast. Her body unused to the easy use of magic. Each one was trying to seek out explanations for how she was back in the past.

All came back empty, leaving two options. One there was some proper old magic that had just brought them back, or that whoever had brought them back, was using powerful magic to hide and was perhaps hiding others with the same foresight. It wasn’t enough for her and she had a shadow at the back of her mind a thought from Classic Gwen, something she had to explore.

There was one way to explore her past, Classic Gwen’s past and perhaps even her memories of the future. But now she wove a spell to satisfy that itch. As she did she briefed Thera, the image of her did it’s best to follow the discussion but like a simple AI, it’s responses were limited, and it was mostly echoing back what she said in a slightly different tone of voice.

Still it had been helpful, speaking about the insanity made it feel less insane. She didn’t touch on Balin, apart from to use him as context, speaking about their relationship didn’t feel right.

She’d just finished explaining about the apocalypse, how the rising tide of magic, the way it had morphed itself into a parody of science and how the work of a few had fueled the shadows of other realms to consume their reality.

“So you have a solution to why you can speak with me and the other owners could not, but it seems to lead to a poor end.”

“Yes, though hopefully avoidable with our new knowledge. First time round we didn’t know about the Oracle’s being rotten to the top, we assumed it was a cult or sect.” She said, cursing the wasted time hunting little groups all of which were just fragments of the whole. “And this time with any luck we can rob them of some key assets.”

“What’re you intending to do? The spell you are casting is not in my repertoire. What does it do”

“No, I learnt it somewhere else. It’s a very complex but not very demanding spell, takes nothing to cast but a lifetime of experience.” She remembered how she’d raided the college library as it burnt. Using the flames and chaos as cover to steal the books away and add them to the Sanctuaries collection. They’d always smelt of smoke after that when she’d read from them.

“What is the purpose of this spell? I can add it the library for you.” Thera asked her question again, not annoyed just waiting for input.

“So my memory is foggy, I can remember Friday, yesterday in this time, as if it was only that, but its also a foggy haze viewed through 30 years.” If her memories were a scrap book this page would be worn and fragmented, damaged by constant examination. “They don’t quite line up. And I feel like there’s something important I said, the spell will allow me to experience a memory.”

“I am aware of references to such spells. What is it you hope to remember.”

“I think I made a wish” she finished the spell. It sent a twinge through her, this body didn’t seem to enjoy handling the complex magic. But steeling herself she stepped out onto the mirror, the reflection below shimmered and the reflection stood not in the greek stone but in her room, the magic took hold.

Gwen stalked around the bedroom, she couldn’t decide whether to be terrified or excited. She laid the clothes out again, surely this was the killer combo, the combination of lingerie, leather and sheer fabric would provoke some comment, some blip of interest from him. She needed just a crack in which to thrust her crowbar of desire.

Fuck she was thinking like Lana, what’d Bellamy said, ‘don’t stoop to their level or they’ll beat you with experience’. She took a breath and tried to remember what this was all about. She still had some weed from Scugs and her grow op in the green house was going well. It’d be ready to harvest soon.

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I had come to the Palace. I had come in the Palace.

My routine did not vary for the next three days. Nanka watched me bathe, and then continued to scrub the ink from my fingers. She remained absolutely expressionless. Sartag escorted me to and from the baths, always hooded. The rest of my time was spent in the luxurious bedroom.

Then I watched the Prince at his lessons. Obviously, I was to learn his mannerisms and speech patterns, which I would no doubt be called upon to mimic at some point.

I did not see Yasina during that time. But I had no doubt what was expected of me. I would be a double of her son. But whether I would replace him, in some function, or merely act as a decoy … that was when I remembered something Sartag had let slip, the day he first brought me to the Palace. I had asked him why there were so many soldiers about …

The Emperor is ill.

It did not take a student of History to predict what would happen if, or when the Emperor died. The death of a ruler in Zamarka inevitably led to the same outcome: a bloody struggle for the throne.

Zoer would not nominate an heir while he lived. That would give his chosen successor too much incentive to speed up the process, by murdering his father. The brothers had spent years preparing for the day the old man would die. Each one had his agents in the Palace, and allies among the Imperial Generals.

Zoer’s death would set off a bloodbath, an orgy of assassination, arrests and imprisonments, flight, and treachery. There might even be a civil war. The eventual winner – the wiliest, most cunning and most ruthless of them all – would become the next Emperor. All he had to do was survive. And eliminate his rivals.

Yasina, obviously, intended for Bishkur to survive, and succeed his father. She would rule from behind the throne. The alternative, most likely, was certain death. She had been planning for months, if not longer. And one fine day, outside the shop of Sumad the apothecary, she had seen my face – and instantly recognized a pawn, a possible piece in the Great Game.

That’s all I was: a pawn. And I would be sacrificed, at need, without a second thought.

I could not leave the Palace. There were two guardsmen outside my door, at all times. Only Sartag came to see me. So I asked him, even though I knew he did not have the power to save me.

– “Sartag, I need to go home. My father is ill, and needs medication. I am the only one he has to get it for him. You remember, that day we first met – that’s what I was doing.”

– “You will have to ask Opkor.” he answered.

– “May I see Opkor?” I persisted.

– “I will inform him of your request.”

– “Will you tell him about my father? And the medication?”

Sartag frowned. “I will inform him of your request.” he repeated.

When he left, I waited a few minutes, and then tried to leave myself. The two guards were surprised, but they snapped to attention belatedly. One of them, a dark fellow with abnormally bushy eyebrows, apologized.

– “I – I’m sorry, Highness. We have orders that you are to remain here.”

That was plain enough, then: prisoner as well as pawn. They believed that I was Bishkur – but that didn’t help me at all.

Opkor came to see me within the hour. He was clearly unhappy.

– “You must remain in this room – for now.” he said.

– “I’m worried about my father.” I replied, and explained about his medication.

– “I will inform the Empress.” he answered. “In the meantime, I will bring you some books to read, to keep you occupied.” Opkor’s mouth twitched into a facsimile of a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Why hadn’t I noticed this before? The eunuch had all the warmth of a lizard.

Later that day, Sartag came to move me. Hooded, I was returned to the sleeping cubicle. Hours later, Sartag came for me again. I thought that being moved to the cubicle was some sort of punishment, or a lesson. But he took me straight back to the luxurious bedchamber.

The room smelled of sex. The silken sheets had been changed, and one of the cushions had been changed, but the odour was unmistakeable. The room felt different. Even Sartag could feel it. He avoided my eye.

Opkor came again the following day. He made certain that I opened the screen, and observed Prince Bishkur’s lesson. Opkor watched me watching Yasina’s son.

A day later, after the Prince’s lesson, Yasina herself came to see me, with Nanka and Opkor. She looked as ever, utterly desirable. I had never considered the power of sex, or lust, before this. With Minika at home, I could have sex whenever I wanted. Here, with Yasina … I knew that I was nothing but a pawn to her – but if she had asked me to lie in the mud, I would have.

She had me walk, talk, and interact with them as I thought her son would do. I did my best – what could I do, except cooperate? She seemed quite pleased with my performance. Even Nanka was nodding, and biting her lip, though her face remained impassive.

– muğla escort “Well done!” said Yasina. “It’s remarkable, isn’t it?”

– “Highness ..” I began. Opkor frowned, but I ignored him. “I am concerned about my father -“

Yasina raised a hand. “You need not worry. Opkor told me of his illness. I sent a guardsman to collect his medication from the apothecary. I also sent your first two weeks’ pay, so that your father would have some money.”

It was far more than I had expected. I bowed to her. “Thank you, Highness.”

– You are very important to us, Carrach al-Batir.” she said. “As you can tell, we are grooming you – preparing you, for a very important task.”

– “To impersonate your son?”

She smiled. “Yes. I admit it. You’re too clever not to have figured it out. Can you do this for us? Afterwards, I can let you go home. For a short time, at least. But I will probably need you back at the Palace for even more important duties thereafter …”

The way she said that, looking me straight in the eyes, I pictured her leaning against my shoulder, stroking me to orgasm. How did she do that?

– “You walk just like Prince Bishkur.” said Opkor. “You are a very talented mimic.” His eyes flickered to his mistress, like a loyal dog seeking approval.

That’s when I realized that they did not expect me to survive.

******

The next morning, Sartag came to collect me – but without a hood.

– “Is this a test?” I asked him.

– “I just follow orders.” he said. He sounded a bit grumpy. I’m sure he would have preferred to be guarding Yasina, rather than shepherding a lowly clerk.

He did not take me very far. Apparently, Prince Bishkur spent most of his time in this wing of the Palace. We passed several guardsmen, who nodded to Sartag, but did not react to me at all. The same was true of servants.

– “That was impressive.” said Sartag, when we reached the baths. “No one noticed anything.”

– “They weren’t looking.” I suggested. “How many servants make eye contact with Princes?”

– “Maybe.” he said, unconvinced.

In the afternoon, he took me out for a stroll in the gardens. I should have been enjoying my first clear view of the palace grounds, but instead I was racking my brain for a way out of this trap.

Our routine was similar the next day, only this time I was much more aware of the people we passed. Outside, there were even more soldiers – not Palace guardsmen. Some of them I recognized, but many were unfamiliar to me.

I made eye contact with Sartag before speaking, as the Prince would have done.

– “Do you recognize all of the different units?” I asked, imitating Bishkur’s cadence and tone.

Sartag nearly had a heart attack. He stepped closer, and hissed: “Don’t talk!”

– “Why?” I replied. “Do I not sound like him? Besides – how many of these troopers will have heard him speak before? They have nothing to compare my voice with.”

– “Yes, Highness.” said Sartag. He added the ‘Highness’ for the benefit of a pair of archers, who were walking by behind us.

“Yes, you do sound like him. But you aren’t supposed to talk.”

– “I will keep it to a minimum, then.” I said. “And my original question?”

– “Yes. I do recognize the units.” he admitted. “Highness. And which Prince they are beholden to as well.”

– “Are any of them beholden to us?” I asked.

Sartag looked at me as if I had spoken in Kilchik. “What are you talking about? There is no ‘us’.” He grumbled. “And for your information, neither the Empress nor Opkor take me into their confidence to that degree.” Then he whispered: ” Now will you please stop talking?”

The next day was different. Sartag came for me as usual, but he took me to a room on the third floor. The floor was red, in this wing. Now that I was no longer hooded, I could also see that the ceilings, the walls, and the door trim had all been the work of different artists than those who had worked on the second floor.

We passed four soldiers in white cloaks, with round helmets. They looked surprised to see me – or the Prince – on this floor. One stopped, and saluted me, and the other three followed suit. I gave them a curt nod, while Sartag returned their salute.

I noticed that all four remained standing there as Sartag reached a door where two of his comrades stood guard. He ushered me in, muttering “Shitshitshitshit” under his breath.

– “What’s wrong?” I asked.

– “Nothing.” he lied. “Stay here.”

The room he had brought me to was another luxurious bedchamber. This one had 3 walls painted. On either side of the door were trees, with songbirds perched in the branches. Another wall depicted a garden, with a veiled lady admiring the flowers. The third wall featured a craftsman’s shop, where the master and an apprentice were making musical instruments. The elder was carving a flute, while the younger was sanding or smoothing the neck of a stringed instrument.

The ordu escort ceiling was plastered, with billowing clouds in relief. But what attracted my attention most was the balcony. So far, the rooms I had been kept in had not had windows, facing the interior of the Palace as they did. I would have expected them to overlook an internal courtyard, but for some reason they did not.

This balcony offered a lovely view of the gardens. And of the squads of soldiers patrolling the grounds. I could see out over most of the city: the sandy brown walls and the reddish-brown rooftops, and here and there the white and turquoise of expensive tile. There were also patches of green. Every Emperor planted trees. They provided shade, and fruit.

The Palace gardens had scores of fruit trees, including dates, almonds and pistachios. There were peach trees, apricots, persimmon, quince and pomegranate.

With nothing else to do, I napped. Sartag returned in the early evening, along with servants bringing me a meal. To my surprise, the guardsman remained while I ate.

– “You’re staying?”

– “Orders.” he grumbled.

Some time later, there was a knock on the door. Two young guardsmen informed Sartag that they were changing the guard.

– “I didn’t recognize those two.” I remarked, once they had closed the door.

– “They’re new.” said Sartag. “Very new.” He did not sound very happy about it.

I was by now accustomed to bearing my status as a prisoner with some equanimity. Sartag, on the other hand, was obviously uncomfortable. He paced the room, like a caged animal. He also seemed to be carrying on some intense internal dialogue.

It grew dark outside. But the soldiers in the courtyard did not go away. They carried torches, so that the gardens looked like the site of some enormous, chaotic parade.

Then, from deep within the Palace, we heard the clashing of cymbals, and a chorus of high-pitched wailing. The wailing was picked up further down the hall. Sartag stood up. I knew what it meant.

– “The Emperor is dead, isn’t he?” I said.

– “Yes.” said Sartag, without looking my way.

It’s odd, what you think of, at times of great stress, or during a momentous occasion. I thought of Minika’s ears. She liked it when I licked them.

– “Did you like him?” I asked Sartag.

This time he looked at me. “What?”

– “The Emperor. Did you like him?”

– “What are you talking about?” snapped Sartag. “I never met the man!”

– “Why are you so upset?” I asked.

Sartag shook his head, bewildered. “Are you dense? The Emperor is dead – and so are we. Alright, Carrach? We’re fucking dead. Those were White Cloaks, out in the hall. They know exactly where we are. And they serve Prince Levra. He’s the second son of the Empress Norcan – the Emperor’s first wife.”

One of those men in the hall? That was Piris – a successful commander, a demon with a blade, and he-is-fucking-going-to-kill-us. We are dead men. Sometime tonight, they are going to come and kill us.”

– “There are two guards on our door.” I pointed out.

– “Dead men.” said Sartag. “Just as dead as we are.”

– “She planned this all along, didn’t she?” I said. “From the very beginning. From the day you saw me outside the apothecary’s shop.”

– “I don’t know. Maybe.” he admitted. “I told you – Opkor, Nanka … they’re close to her. I’m just an errand boy.” He chuckled. “Clueless. And expendable.”

I had a sudden flash of insight. “You’ve slept with her.”

Sartag laughed aloud. “Once! One night – like a fool, I thought it meant something. The greatest night of my life – I’ll tell you that for nothing, Carrach al-Batir. And now I’m going to die for it.” Then he looked at me, as if seeing me for the first time. “Did you get to enjoy her?”

I shook my head. Did a handjob count? Besides, in his present mood, I don’t think Sartag wanted to hear about it.

– “You poor bastard.” said Sartag. “Well, you’re just as dead.”

– “You keep saying that.” I observed. “But what if we leave? What if there’s a way out?”

– “There’s no way out.”

– “Why can’t we leave?” I persisted.

– “Because they know where we are, and they think you’re him. They have to wipe out rival Princes, even the insignificant ones. They will come sometime tonight, and they will kill us. If we try to leave, there are eyes everywhere. There’s no way of knowing which servants belong to Prince Levra. Or to Prince Igris, or Alperix. Most of the Palace guardsmen belong to one Prince or the other.

– “You could leave.” I suggested. “You don’t have to die with me.”

Sartag chuckled again. “No, I’m too well known as her man. But thank you.”

I walked out onto the balcony. It was too high to jump, or drop. Plus there were still soldiers all over the Palace grounds. There was nowhere to hide. Unless … my Father had always taught me to be thorough, to consider every last detail.

I turned osmaniye escort around, and looked up. The roof was too high to reach. Even if I balanced atop the balcony rail, it was too far to leap. Unless …

– “Sartag!” I called. “Come here!”

He did, and I explained my plan. He didn’t think much of it. But since he didn’t have a better one, he agreed to at least try.

I stood on his back, then his shoulders. He put his hands under my feet, and pushed me up. I was just able to grab the edge of the roof. I had to scratch, and scrabble, and the edge of the roof cut into my hands cruelly – but I made it.

The roof had a slope, but it was so vast that the incline was not very steep at all. This is what happens when you have rooftops measured in acres.

I stripped off my fine clothes. Then I lay down flat on the roof tiles, with my head and shoulders just over the edge. I wrapped my pants around one hand and wrist, my silk shirt around the other, and dangled the two pieces of fabric, extending my reach by another foot or two.

Sartag tossed me his sword. I caught it, and put in on the roof tiles, next to me. Then Sartag climbed onto the balcony rail. It was quite narrow. and he struggled to find his balance. He fell off, and landed on the balcony.

A second try was more successful. He stood up on the rail, and then launched himself towards me, reaching for my outstretched shirt and pants.

He missed.

He caught hold of my shirt with his left hand, but missed my pants completely with his right. Sartag lost confidence, and let go altogether. He crashed back on to the balcony, landing heavily.

I was worried that he might have injured himself – twisted an ankle, or something like that. “Are you alright?” I whispered.

Sartag laughed aloud. “I’m fine. Fine. What a couple of idiots.” he said.

He mounted the balcony rail again, preparing for another try. Without preamble, he leapt for the roof, snatching at my hanging clothes.

This time, he got them both. I wasn’t prepared for his sudden weight, and nearly tipped over the edge. Sartag ‘s body, defenceless, slammed into the outer wall. For a moment there, I thought we were going to tip over, that I was going to plunge off the rooftop.

But I held on. So did Sartag. And then he reached for the roof’s edge with his hand. With my now free hand, I held onto him. Between the two of us, we got him onto the roof.

We lay on the roof tiles, on our backs, breathing heavily. Sartag shifted uncomfortably, as he felt how sharp the edges of the tiles were. Then he looked at me.

– “Gods! You’re cut to shreds. Put your clothes back on, at least.” he said.

It was true. Lying naked on Zamarkan roof tiles is not a good idea – you can take that from me. My chest, stomach, and legs were scraped and abraded. I was bleeding in several places.

– “You’re tougher than you look.” remarked Sartag.

– “I didn’t feel it – at the time.” I said.

– “We’ll make a soldier of you yet.” he said.

– “Oh, shit – I hope not.” I said. I think that was the first time I saw him smile.

– “I don’t know if they’ll find us up here. But either way – it was a good idea.” Sartag glanced at me. “Thanks.”

We lay back on the rooftop, a few feet from the edge, so that we could not be seen by men in the yard below.

It came as quite a surprise to both of us that we could hear so well. There was the rolling thunder of running feet on the third floor. Twice we heard the clash of blades, down in the gardens. Then a scream.

– “Blood will flow.” whispered Sartag.

– “All night long?” I asked.

– “Perhaps for days. You know what they call it when an Emperor dies?”

Zoer was the only Emperor I had ever known. But my father had told me tales. “Yes – the Night of the Knives.”

There were more running feet, and then the door of the room below us was thrown open. I heard no clash of swords, no cries of pain. The two young guardsmen had most likely deserted their post.

Silence. Were there three men below us? Or four?

– “Where is he?” said a voice.

– “How the fuck should I know?”

– “There’s nowhere to hide in here.” said a third man.

– “Out the window?”

The voices were nearer now, as the intruders came out onto the balcony.

– “That’s a long way down.” said one.

– “‘Specially without a rope.”

– “You think they jumped?”

– “Nah – most likely snuck out before we got here.”

– “How? We had eyes on ’em the whole time.”

One of them sheathed his sword.

– “I don’t know. All I do know is that if we don’t find him, it’s our heads on a stick.”

The soldiers rummaged through the room, noisily. One of them complained that there was nothing to steal. But they did not remain long. We heard them leave.

Sartag put a finger to his lips. Then he pointed down. I understood him: there might still be one or more men in the room. In any case, it was not safe for us to climb down. They might return – or another party could arrive.

We spent the night on that rooftop, afraid to talk, or even whisper, for fear that we would be overheard. It was not cold, but it was certainly not comfortable. We couldn’t sleep – it was unlikely that we would roll off the roof, but if we dislodged a roof tile … better to lie still.

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