Kingdom Besieged (closed for dryfter)

[DarkWarrioress]

The dryad made good her escape. Myria remained stoic for the most part. She was feeling guilty for seemingly “ordering” her master around. She hadn’t meant to. He was under the dryad’s spell, such as that may have been and apparently, to her, unwilling to leave the fae and seek furthering their own survival. The emotion to do away with the dryad had rode Myria hard and without thought given to repercussions that would have surely prevailed. Myria’s feelings were what bothered her the most. The simple idea of him bedding the fae had felt like a boulder in the pit of her stomach. That idea had not settled well with her at all. She had reined it in tightly. Buried it. He meant to take others. Ones that would bear him children, something she, herself was unwilling to do. The emotion was a strange one for her. She would study it more minutely when she had time to herself, for now, his stomach growled. She needed to hunt. They needed shelter of some sort. Her eyes turned up to the darkening skies. It would be nightfall before too long.

"A dryad. I never thought in all my days I'd see one.”

There had been a note of awe in his voice. She flinched away from the immediate emotion that rose up in her.

“Thank you, by the way. For helping me keep a level head back there. I've no doubt I could have never been seen again if it were just me."

Her reply was only a soft grunt as she trudged along.

"Moreover, we'll need to figure it out soon. Winter's going to set in any day, and I'll be damned if I have you standing watch over a damned cave."

“A cave would be welcome if naught else can be found or created.”

Her soft words were accompanied by a shudder of revulsion. Images of the mine and the haggard beings forced to work it rose up in her mind like a specter. He would not disregard any half bred children he sired, she was almost sure of it, if his reaction to his clan’s mine was anything to go by. He wouldn’t look upon those children as something beneath him, something… less than what he was.

What of the females he claimed? Were they merely to be a tool of use? Like she herself was?

She glanced in his direction.

“I need to hunt. You hunger.”

Myria veered from their current path and headed for the woods. She paused on the edge of them to look back at him.

“Do not worry, Master. I will find you. You are easy for me to track.”

With that, she turned and let the woods swallow her up from view.

~~ ~~​

Sylvannia had taken only one warrior with her. It was all she felt she could lay claim to. Their people were busy. Everyone had tasks to see to before winter set in for the betterment of those who resided within the fortress walls. If it was not hunting for food to store, it was gathering food or preserving it or seeing to the fortress itself to withstand the harsh rigors of the winters that engulfed them. There was wood to be gathered and distributed. The Elders to see to. No, Sylvannia would only take one companion on the search for her sister.

Wearing warm clothing, swathed in a thick fur cape, they had ridden for days before they came upon the remnants of a fight. Decaying corpses of Orcs, sealed in the cold rigors of weather, were found. Sylvannia dismounted as did her companion. Together they sought amongst the dead, searching for clues, in any were to be found, of Myria. Was it even possible that her sister had been here? It was quite possible that Myria could have easily created this carnage. Her sister was renowned for her prowess with sword as well as the bow. They two elves met somewhere in the middle.

“No hint of her, Milady Sylvannia.”

There was a soft sigh of resignation.

“I did not think there would be, Renalta. Come. Let us search for shelter. Night is coming soon. We should get out of the weather.”

Together, they both mounted up and rode onward. There was the soft sound of the horses’ hooves to accompany them. They rode for a distance when they spied the outline of a building. As they drew closer, they saw it was little more than a shack. Decrepit. They pulled up their horses in front of it, looking at each other a moment before they simultaneously dismounted.

“It is better than nothing, Milady.”

“It will do for the night.”

“Milady Sylvannia, allow me to hobble the horses and go hunt for food. You go inside and find us someplace to bed down.”

Sylvannia nodded, handing over the reins to her horse before she gingerly made her way inside the shack. Stepping through the threshold, a hand lifted, pushing back the fur-lined hood of her thick cloak. Picking her way cautiously through the room, she spied a bed in a far corner. Well, that was something at least. They wouldn’t have to sleep on the bare floor. Crossing to the bed, she kicked it lightly. Something red caught her eye. Moving toward it, she leaned over to examine it. Picking up a stick from the floor, she used it to pick up the scrap of material that obviously, Sylvannia could now perceive, was soaked in old blood. Someone had been here. It hadn’t been all that long ago. The cloth was not disintegrating. For a brief moment, Sylvannia wondered if it could have been Myria’s blood. Setting the stick with the cloth on it aside, she bent to retrieve pieces of wood. It wasn’t enough, but it was a start. They would have a fire and hot food for their bellies tonight.

The rabbit’s meager fat was dripping into the small fire they had built. The smell of roasting meat made Sylvannia’s stomach growl alarmingly. Renalta was examining the scrap of bloody cloth.

“I do not know, Milady Sylvannia. It is quite possibly Milady’s Myria’s. We simply have no way of knowing. “

“I know, Renalta. I just like thinking that is. It means she has been this way. While I do not like the idea of her being injured, at least we know she still lives since we are not graced with her corpse. For now, let us eat and sleep.”

Sylvannia reached for the makeshift spit, taking the browned, crisply carcass from the fire.

~~ ~~​

“I told you, I would find you.”

Myria grinned at Bjorn as she walked in closer, holding up the two small rabbits she had killed by their ears.

“We will feast tonight, Master. The forest gods were good to me. Not only do I have the rabbits but I found some tubers to roast as well. “

She didn’t mention that she had found the second herb she needed for the potion she wanted to concoct. Myria wasn’t so sure he would approve of what she had was of mind to do but the heat inside her body was gnawing away at her so much so, it was beginning to become more than an ache, it was becoming painful. The need to feel him spearing forcefully into her body, filling her repeatedly, was becoming consuming. She didn’t understand this need, just knew it was there. Knew, that he was responsible for putting it there. Two more. She needed two more herbs to insure he would not impregnate her. She wanted his body but not his child growing in her belly.

 

[dryfter]

The small fire crackled and leapt between them, the human engrossed in the shadows its brilliance set to dance amid the darkening trees. He had been certain that even this small fire would be forbidden, would be a sure way to get themselves killed. But so far, no reprisal had come.....only the smoky taste of slightly charred flesh expertly cooked over the open flame. Bjorn could scarcely imagine that a pair of rabbits could taste so good......

The meat was greasy, but good. More than enough to satisfy the hunger that had been gnawing at him almost since he had left that little shanty with her. He hadn't eaten well, and they had left his clan hold before their feast was in full swing. There hadn't even been a chance to purloin a few of the goods as they were being prepared and brought out to the gathering.....

Bjorn sighed happily. It was good to have a full stomach again. Better to have an elf so skilled at hunting. For a moment, it made him wonder if there was anything he did that she couldn't do better. The more he thought about it, the more inferior he felt, so he let his mind wander to other things.....other hungers......

"Myria."

He could see her react. Her name jerking her to a halt like an invisible collar, its chain stretching intangibly to his hand.

"Come here."

There was just something about her and the way the elven woman's skin shimmered softly in the moonlight. The fact that he was thinking about her so much inevitably turned his thoughts to something more wicked. Especially as her platemail did very little to hide her womanly curves, instead doing exactly the opposite of just that.

He could see her eyes widen softly as he teased the edge of his kilt, letting it slowly slide up his leg, his girth kept hidden for now. There was no mistaking the disgust she showed him, disgust he could only hope would fade over time. There was no mistaking the hunger either.....

"Disrobe and come to me."

He watched carefully, wanting to see if she heeded his commands. Needing to see each layer of protection fall from her as she bared herself to him and only him. Bjorn wondered just how fragile her resistance towards him really was, and how it would strain before it broke. The very thought was dangerously exciting.

"There are other ways to satisfy ourselves than what I've showed you."

No sooner was she in reach than he pulled her down to him. He wasn't angry or displeased in any way. Indeed, the smile on his face belied a very different mood. It was a smile that widened even further as his fingers curled slowly in her dark hair, his kilt finally lifting as she found herself confronted with the arousal he had been harboring silently ever since their confrontation with the dryad. If he wanted to further his goals, he needed to strengthen his bond, his dominance over her......and this would be a terrific way to do so without risking her being burdened.....

"Taste it, Myria....take your time.....get to know your Master's cock."

 

[DarkWarrioress]

The only soft sounds to be heard between them came from the crackling of the fire and their eating. Both of them hungered. As he sighed happily, the sign of a man whose stomach had been filled, she turned to gather up the bones from the rabbits she had cooked. They had been only small ones, but fat enough to sate them both. Finding a handful sized rock, pointed on one end, Myria began to dig in the soft earth just past the edge of the firelight. The bones would rest in the shallow trough she was creating. The fire would keep the hungry beasts at bay. Returning to the circle of firelight, she started to seek the place she had chosen for her rest this night, when his voice stopped her.

”Myria.”

There was a certain tone in his voice that made her heart start to beat wildly in her chest, like a wild bird seeking its freedom.

She came to a sudden and swift halt. Every fiber within her froze in place.

"Come here."

That tone. It was seductive to her ears. Intimate. It spoke silently of his possession. His knowledge. Once for the claiming. Twice for the mating. But he said he had other uses for her now. Surely he wasn’t going to mate her? Plant his seed in her belly and give her a child, was he? Had he not told her that would be her punishment for disobedience? Her mind raced. She had done nothing disobedient that she could think of. She had taken pride in providing food and guarding him against that silly little dry--- oh, maybe that was it. Maybe he was upset with her for interfering with the dryad earlier. She turned toward him, reluctance etched in every line of her body. She had been about to say something. An apology. Anything, to stop this madness that was gripping her. Her eyes widened as they watched his fingers toy with the edges of his kilt. For the love of her, she couldn’t tear her look away.

"Disrobe and come to me."

That did it. Amethyst eyes rose from his hand to meet his eyes. He was sitting back against a rock, partially in shadow, but she already knew his own were the color of a storm.

Her fingers were reaching for the bindings at the sides of her armor before her mind registered she was even doing it, not that she would have stopped. She was his to command. She hated that knowledge but this went beyond what she felt. The mithril breastplate hit the dirt at her feet with a soft thunk. She had already removed her bow, quiver and sword for the evening. They were lying against the very rock that she had every intention of sleeping against. Myria bent forward to retrieve her armor causing the gauzy material she wore under it to gape, giving him an unobstructed view of her unbound breasts beneath it. Small fingers closed over the chest plate and lifted it from the ground as she moved to sit by her weapons, not willing yet to approach him closer. Slowly, she began to remove her boots, setting them aside. She could stall only so long. Standing once more, her fingers unlaced her trews, slipping between the leather and her bare skin so the pants could be pushed down over her hips and discarded. Myria could feel his gaze upon her, watching every move she made. If she looked up, it was certain as the stars shone in the night sky, that there would be a hungry, predatorial look in the depths of the eyes that watched her disrobe. The chemise she wore hung down her body, barely rasping against the tops of her thighs. Her hands found the hem and tugged the material upward. The cool night air touched her skin, making it tighten in response. The act of removing this final covering stretched her breasts taut, as they came into view, her sensitive nipples responding to the cold as well. Myria stood there, half framed in the firelight, looking to him. She stood proudly, not because of her womanly assets, but because she was a trained warrior.

There was a fight within herself. There had been since his taking and claiming her for his own. He had awakened something inside her that had been hard to fight against. Myria was more than a warrior, blessed with talents and skills. She was a woman as well, with a woman’s needs and desires. Her feet moved in his direction. There was a part of her that wanted to feel him fitting himself into her body. Riding her with lust. Need. Desire. There was another part of her that was afraid of it. Elven women were a fertile lot. It was ironic that their own men could hardly impregnate their own kind, yet these humans had no such issue. They filled every Elven woman they took captive, begetting her with child, time and time again until she was worn out and then, simply tossed aside like a piece of garbage to work the mine and to be further used by the men down there. Myria was meant to be more than someone’s brood mare. Her very talents spoke of it. She wasn’t meant to bear this man half-bred children. A thought she still found appalling.

Myria could feel the heat from the fire on her naked backside just before he tugged her down to her knees before him, strong fingers filtered into her hair, gathering it as his free hand, the one that had been toying with the edges of his kilt, slid the material up his thighs, exposing his full hardened length to her eyes.

"Taste it, Myria,” he urged, “....take your time.....get to know your Master's cock."

Her palms found his knees and gripped there as she resisted his urging for the moment. Even while, deep inside her body, she felt a twitch of something. A longing. A need turned to ache that flared upward from between her thighs to invade the pit of her belly……..

~~ ~~​

It was cold. Unearthly cold. To add to their misery, a foggy mist had crept around the hooves of their horses, swirling around on the forest floor. It was an eerie feeling that slinked and sidled up around them as the morning wore on. Sylvannia had been concentrating on not running into a tree or a boulder of of any sort that it came as sudden realization that Renalta wasn’t riding behind her any longer.

“Renalta?”

Her voice was hardly more than an uneasy whisper. Not wishing to speak too loudly. All she could see was the swirling white fog. Reining in her horse, they stood, both beast and woman, hearing only their own breathing and an occasional hoof stomping on the ground. Her steed shook his head, snorting. Syl leaned over the saddle to gently pat his neck and whisper reassuringly.

“Easy girl. Steady now. We’ll be fine.”

The beast seemed to calm unlike her rider, though Sylvannia did her best to be calm, knowing that the horse could sense a great deal. Leaning back in her saddle, Syl had no idea what to do now. Surely in this fog to move forward would be hazardous to her well-being, yet, to stand still didn’t seem like a good idea either. A few minutes of indecision and then Sylvannia slipped from the saddle, gathering the reins in one hand. From somewhere behind her back she heard a sweet seductive voice.

“Are you lost, pretty one?”

Syl whirled about, cape floating outward around her shoulders as she did so, only to resettle around her like a cloud. She tried to peer through the mist.

“Who are you? Where are you?”

No one answered. Syl was about to call out again when the mists parted and a beautiful dryad appeared.

“What brings you to my woods, Elf?”

The dryad smiled alluringly. She knew full well that her magic didn’t work on the Elven Ones. Sylvannia’s eyes widened upon spying the fae. A dryad! Why, they were more beautiful than any that had ever been painted. Her fingers itched to touch the mystical one. To run her fingertips over that luscious skin, to see if it felt as soft as it looked. Such exotic eyes and the humans thought the elves had unusual eyes. Sylvannia wet her suddenly dry lips.

“My companion and I were merely traveling through. I’m trying to locate my sister. She’s gone missing, I fear.”

The dryad came closer. A hand found its way to Sylvannia’s shoulder. Her cheek brushed softly against an elven one.

“I have not seen another elf for days, dear one. The last one I encountered was rude, but you? Oh.. I like the looks of you, pretty.”

The dryad’s hand left Syl’s shoulder and trailed seductively across it to the girl’s neck, fingertips brushing across a jaw to stop enticingly, gently, upon elven lips. The fae drew closer, pressing her full, barely covered breasts against elven ones. A breath whispered across pretty elven lips that had parted slightly.

“Tell me pretty thing, do you find me attractive?”

Syl’s cheeked filled with color and heat. Her eyes were unable to tear away from the teasing fae’s knowing smile.

“I---I do.”

Soft lips brushed across Syl’s skin, almost making her cry out softly in need. For, indeed, Syl needed. The dryad reminded her of how long it had been since her last time with the Elven men. Before her cycle came around again, she had sought relief amongst her friends, friends who were all too willing to help out. It had been what? Days now? Maybe a week or two since she had sought out any kind of physical relief? Now, this dryad had appeared out of the mists. One she had found strangely erotic.

“Come with me, pretty elf. Let us both see if we can’t find some relief.”

The dryad took Sylvannia’s hand. The fingers of her other, let the reins of her horse go as she followed the gentle tugging of the dryad’s hand holding hers. She still couldn’t see a thing, but apparently the dryad knew where she was going. The mists parted for them. Before them stood a large flat rock. Gentle hands turned the elven girl toward her. Those same fingers worked at undoing Syl’s cloak.

“You have on way too much clothing, pretty. Let me help you. Just relax. You’re safe with me.”

Her cloak was removed and draped upon the rock then those nimble fingers turned Syl and began to undo the buttons at the back of the the girl’s dress. Each button uncovered smooth, silk elven flesh which dryad lips kissed. Syl’s head rolled back slightly, her eyes closing as her the top of her dress slipped from her shoulders. Knowing hands came from behind, pushing the material downward, fingers gliding under silken cloth to find already hard nipples upon tightened girl globes of flesh. Lips from behind trailed silken kisses along Syl’s spine, followed by a warm tongue, making Syl moan in pleasure.

“That’s it, pretty. Let yourself go. Enjoy my touch. I can pleasure you far better than any elven man can. Who knows a woman’s body better than another of our kind?”

The dress slid over Syl’s hips without protest. She stepped free of it only to have the dryad help her free of it then directing her to the large flat rock.

“Come pretty one, lie down on your cape for me. Feel the softness of the fur at your back….”

Syl eagerly lie on the rock, her back sinking against the fur there with another soft sound of pleasure. The dryad stood between the girl’s legs, pressing them wider apart with her palms before kneeling on the ground.

“So nubile and fresh, pretty. That’s it. Spread those pretty thighs for me. Wider. “

The dryad leaned over, closer to Sylvannia’s center and inhaled.

“The sweet soft fragrance of a woman in need. It stirs me and you do need, don’t you, pretty?”

The dryad’s fingertips raked along Syl’s inner thighs, making them tremble. Syl’s lower body went taut as she waited, almost impatiently for what she knew was coming. She could almost feel herself drip with desire. The dryad’s fingers raked across Syl’s nether lips, to pull aside the fragile material of her undergarments, fingers tugging soft flesh upward, exposing the hardened little nub of pleasure. The dryad’s head dipped, drawing that nub between her lips and suckling upon that bit of flesh as her other hand found Syl’s warm, wet pussy. A finger invaded as teeth tugged upon a blood engorged clit, making the elf arch up from the rock, crying out in pleasure. As her back came back down, the finger thrust deeply into her body. The mouth around her clit sucked harder. Another finger found its way between her folds to join the other one thrusting in and out of her body. Sylvannia’s head thrashed back and forth across the fur of her cloak. Her hips rolled to the thrusts of the fingers in her body. Soft whimpers filled the swirling air around them. Lips lifted away from the throbbing micro heart of things.

“No cumming without me, pretty one. Not yet….”

The dryad’s tongue lapped at swollen miniature piece of flesh as fingers thrust deeply into the elven female’s body once before hands and mouth were removed suddenly, making Syl whimper in distress. The fae one drew herself up the rock, draping herself across Syl’s body, positioning herself between the wanton elven thighs. The covering over Sylvannia’s breasts disappeared as the dryad’s mouth latched onto a nipple, suckling at Syl’s tit. Hips rolled against hips. Pressing. Mashing. Syl’s hands found the dryad’s breasts and palmed them, raking across sensitive nipples before pinching them, making the mounting dryad cry out in pleasure. Making hips ride and buck against each other with a stronger, more demanding need. Sylvannia could feel the lips of her sex part, pressing against the dryad’s in desperation. The fae’s body rubbed against the elven one until clit found clit and rubbed together, making both females wail. Faster. Harder. Pressing. Rubbing. Hands squeezing. Mouths taking turns to pull at nipples. Hips bucked until Sylvania arched upward, taut and the dryad pressed down against. Both females quivering together, against each other. Time seemed to hold suspended until suddenly they both collapsed. The fae’s head rested on elven breast. Elven fingertips lightly floated over the dryad’s back. Breathing became less harsh and demanding. Bodies softened. It was moments before the dryad lifted her head.

“You may pass through my woods, pretty but I am keeping your companion.”

There was a featherlike touch across Sylvannia’s lower belly. Across her quivering slit and then, gone. Syl was alone.

“Oh, but…”

There was no use speaking to the mists. They wouldn’t know what to do with her protests. Weakly she sat up then managed to get to her feet and redress herself before drawing on her clothes and her cloak. What now? What was to become of her now?

The mists parted, revealing her horse grazing on some winter grass. She was deep in the woods. Alone.

~~ ~~​

Myria looked upon his bold, throbbing flesh. His words echoing in her ears…

"Taste it, Myria....take your time.....get to know your Master's cock."

She wanted to refuse him. Yet, her upper body leaned forward. Her head lifting slightly as she inhaled his scent. Her eyes were glued to the pulsing staff in front of her. Her lips itched to touch him. She wanted to know. What did he taste like? How would he feel in her mouth? She already knew how he felt between her thighs. This is what he had pounded into her body with. Her head lowered further, lips finding the underside of his cock. They parted slightly as she tentatively stuck out the tip of her tongue and she felt his hardness, drawing his taste into her mouth. Her knees scooted closer between his spread thighs. Once more her head lowered, this time to the root of his cock and lapped there. Her eyes spied the sac dangling between his thighs. Her tongue cautiously explored it. The texture was different. She lapped across it like a kitten lapping its paw. The course of her tongue changed, settling back on the length of his shaft. Here, too, she lapped against smoother skin, upwards until she came to a rim of flesh that signified the sloped head. Myria drew herself upright so her head hovered over it. Her tongue hesitated momentarily before it lapped across this surface too.

Forgotten was her disgust of human males. Forgotten was her greatest fear. She was lost in a world of beyond all that. Curiosity held her. Enlightenment beckoned her. Things she had never considered before, now drove her. How would he feel in her mouth, raking against the roof of it, sliding across her tongue? What would she do with it, once it was there? She was about to find out. Feminine lips parts, spreading wider as her head lowered to slide that sloping head between them, into the cavern of her heated mouth and once there, instinct seemingly took over. Her lips closed around him. Her tongue ran over length and girth and her mouth gently suckled upon him.

 

[dryfter]

"Good....that's good...."

Bjorn had watched her undress with more pride than he thought a youth like him should be allowed to have. And yet, he couldn't help but remember that same pride echoed in his own father's eyes when he had cast his gaze upon Myria for the first time. Pride....and lust. There had been no doubt that the old man had wanted to bed the warrioress himself, but such was not their way. They had all been smart enough to know that Myria was unlikely to accept such a coupling unless Bjorn wished it, and the cheiftain had known from the second his eyes had met with his son's.....whom Myria belonged to, and that his son was very possessive of his trophy.

Still, it took his breath away to watch her undress. A simple act that would have never been performed a month ago, now done shamelessly without the slightest hint of a blush on perfect skin. Bjorn took his time admiring too, as Myria seemed to undress leisurely, allowing him such time. His gaze raked hotly across her sultry, unknowing striptease, drinking in the sight of her shimmering pale and lovely in the moonlight.

When she finally came to him and he directed her to what he truly wanted from her, Bjorn stilled himself. Instead, he chose to watch as her naivety rose to the fore once more, such a contrast from the battle hardened warrioress that she was. This....was a battle she was unaccustomed to. But he would see to that. For now he had to remember that Myria had been an unexpected virgin when he had taken her....he could still remember the heat of her blood as he had claimed her. He would not rush her, not make any sudden movements......though his groan could surely be heard by her as she tasted him for the very first time.

The barbarian released his tangled hold on her hair. He didn't want her thinking she was being forced to do this, not this time. Now that she had been brought so close, he doubted she could pull away anyway. Better to let her think she served him of her own free will, it would make her a better servant in the future than one who began to take enjoyment from being forced.

When the elf maiden's lips closed about him, Bjorn hissed his pleasure, the muscles in his thighs tightening visibly as he forced his hips to remain grounded for now. The look in her eyes was intoxication, no doubt taking her own measure from every reaction, a desire to know if she was truly serving him well. Gently, he reached down and stroked a lock of dark hair from her face....groaning as she felt himself being tightly suckled....as if she had found him to be a hard candy of some sort.....

"Good....now move....as fast as you want and feel comfortable with. Move it inside your mouth, let it claim it as it claimed your pussy."

No sooner had the directions left his mouth than he was leaning back against the tree he had chosen for the night, shivering with pleasure. Her mouth was even tighter than her pussy had been! It was almost frightening to think how good Myria could be with a little more confidence and experience. Bjorn vowed right then and there to give her both. And that started right now with trying to hold out as long as he could....

"Don't forget to use your tongue yet on occasion, do your best to surprise and thrill. Your master desires you, make yourself worthy of that desire. Make yourself into a drug that makes me want you more and more. Ahhhh.....god, I love that look....."

It was true, her eyes had begun to smolder looking at him, watching the pleasure she wrought in him. Watching as he shook slightly again, still not willing to buck against her. Not this time. This was her show, her act of loyalty. He would not disturb it no matter how much he wanted to rock his hips against her. He could already feel the burning of his loins as she unknowingly coaxed his seed to boil and churn within him.

"Yes Myria....yess...."

Her face was hidden from him for long moments beneath her hair, but always returned to take her own measure through him again. He only hoped she was as pleased as he was with her, a strong shudder taking control enough that he finally rose once to meet the sudden descent of her hungry mouth, plunging deeper than he intended before once more getting control of himself.

"I'm going to cum soon, Myria...."

Their gazes locked and it was hard to tell which one of them was the most aroused by all this. Still....it was his arousal that was peaking.....

He kept his hands at his sides, his groans painful and agonized as the first rush of thick cream raced up his cock to explode inside her mouth, coating it with his flavor. Not because what she was doing hurt, but because he wanted nothing more than to roar his pleasure into the night sky, to proclaim her victorious in this unknown battle.....yet the creatures of the forest and those of the night would surely find them then.

He did not touch her, or hold Myria in place in any way, as he continued to stream pulse after molten pulse of spend into her, sating yet another virgin curiosity no doubt. When it was over, and she had cajoled the last shiver from him, the last ebbing spurt of his essence, the barbarian youth sagged softly against his resting place and finally let his hand rest upon her head once more....pulling her upward to rest next to him rather than let her pull away to eventually look askance at him as to how she did.

"You did well. You will sleep with me tonight."

He did not intend to push his boundaries with her any further. Instead, he made his intentions clear as the thick fur cloak she had known so well in her time of weakness wrapped about her naked form once more, her slender frame pulled tight against his own at the base of the tree.

"Thank you, Myria."

 

[DarkWarrioress]

Myria, though she had never been with a male before Bjorn, had heard tales of this way of pleasuring a male. Some had enjoyed it, for others it had been a tool, a way to get what they wanted. Some had disliked it. Myria, so far, had not found it unpleasant. Her ears heard her master speaking, his words bounded around in her mind, but most of her attention was fastened on the hardness inside her mouth, the way her tongue roved over him and how his breath would hiss with a tone of pleasure whenever her head dipped deeply, securing him in her throat or when her lips pulled back slowly while her tongue lashed over the column of his pulsing hardness. She feed her curiosity and heeded what gave him the most marked pleasure. The latter was filed away for future use, though she doubted he would have much need of her when he finally took others.

The motion of her mouth moving upon his cock, at first, was slow. A gentle easing to swallow him fully, a slow move retreating. She discovered she liked hearing his soulful groans. If one act of pleasuring mimicked another, Myria’s head bobbed between his spread thighs in slowly increasing increments until something took over her. She was becoming entranced with the moment. Lost to it. Her lips closed around and released him in a repeated heated rhythm while her tongue slithered around and over that defining maleness. She drew enamored groans from his throat as her tongue investigated the very crown of that maleness. The flat side of her tongue lapped across it, making his hips jerk involuntarily. The tip of her oral appendage traced the ride that separated crown from shaft as her lips drew upward, capturing and holding just beneath that ridge while her head shifted enough to rub him against the roof of her mouth, letting it slide slickly back and forth there and in compliment to such, her tongue stroked the underside of his arousal repeatedly. This was an action didn’t last long, simply for the fact she wanted him fully enclosed again, her lips pressed to the root of him.

"I'm going to cum soon, Myria...."

His words made her glance upward with him fully enclosed within her mouth, the head tickling the back of her throat. Shortly thereafter his words, she felt his cock pulse and it was quickly followed by his very essence coating the inside of her throat, filling her mouth, surrounding him in his own heat. Her tongue pressed to the base of his rigid pumping length as she continued to swallow his gift. The motion of her swallowing repeatedly pressed him to the roof of her mouth until he, himself, slowed and was drained. His hand descended to her hair once more, gently laying against her head. Myria was slow to release him from the confines of her mouth. He slipped from between her lips just moments before he gently urged her up his body, to lie against him. Beneath her ear she could hear his heart still thundering, though gradually was returning to normal. His arms shifted her to place her at his side, though still held firmly against him.

"You did well. You will sleep with me tonight."

It wasn’t a request.

Any thought of moving away from him to take up the spot she had previously chosen for herself for the night, was forgotten as his thick fur cloak fell across both of them, though he insured her naked skin was not exposed to the night air. Her head fit in the crook where his arm met his shoulder. Silently, she had to admit that the warmth from his body was a welcome thing as the night settled in around them. There was something more. Something she didn’t want to accept, wanted to refute with the strength of her heart, yet found she couldn’t.

She liked it. Enjoyed it even.

Being pressed against his side as if it was where she belonged. As if she was meant to fit there and the other thing. Pleasuring him. There was a peace inside her she couldn’t explain. Didn’t comprehend.

"Thank you, Myria."

Her cheek, turned into his shoulder, infused with heat and a small, satisfied smile, hidden by the darkness, graced her lips as her eyes closed. A very small, soft sigh left her lips just as sleep claimed her.

 

[dryfter]

It didn't take long for sleep to claim him. Not now that he had eaten, now that he had a warm and supple body curled up next to him. For as long as he could before the shadows of the dying sun through the trees swallowed them, he watched her resting against him.......

When the sun filtered through the failing canopy once more, he reached for her, fully expecting Myria to be clothed again and he to be alone beneath the furred expanse of cloak that had sheltered the two of them against the night's chill. Instead, his fingertips found smooth and pleasantly warm flesh, felt a response beneath his touch even as his eyes fluttered open to meet a gaze he had no idea how long had been upon him.

"Good morning."

His smile was cheerful, genuine. For a moment, he reached for her, pulling her close to him once more until he could almost swear he heard her purr like a feline. He didn't want to let her go....ever.....but he knew that Myria had discarded weapon and armor on the other side of their camp. She would need to re-don them if they were to continue with any form of efficiency.

The forest made him nervous enough that he kept his glances in her direction to a minimum as she dressed. The fact that he was missing out put him in a slightly irritated mood. The last thing he wanted was for her to start thinking that he was losing interest in her now that she had taken care of his needs last night. Nothing could be farther from the truth.....

The day passed by uneventfully as the thick foliage and trees finally began to thin once more. Yet it wasn't until nearly sundown that a halt was signalled.

A ramshackle cabin. It certainly didn't look like much, and yet its roof seemed mostly intact, unlike the dilapidated shelter they had taken while he had nursed Myria's terrible wounds.

The door swung in the breeze, held up by a single hinge. Only cobwebs and grime greeted them as their boots echoed hollowly upon wooden floorboards, the threshold crossed.

"Abandoned. This looks as good of a place as any to spend the night. With any luck, perhaps I can fix this place up. Doesn't look like its had residents in quite some time."

Bjorn glanced over his shoulder to shoot her a rue smile. Granted, he knew they were dangerously close now to an elven city, a large one. Yet here the trees were sparse enough that his fears of the woodland shadows had begun to relinquish. Very little was in the way of accepting this little gift the Gods had decided to put in their path. Very little....as long as he avoided having to freshly fell the trees around them.....

There was no furniture, not even a moldy mattress with which to lay their heads. Still, he had slept on harder surfaces before, and with the knowledge that she might come to lay with him again.......well that.....would make any bedding place more enjoyable.

There had been no sound of hounds. No signs of pursuit. Had they shaken his father's best trackers? Bjorn had certainly given it hell.....

"I'm going to gather some firewood. I'll be right back. Start clearing some of this crap out of here. Wish we had a broom or something too, all this dust is making it hard to breathe......."

 

[DarkWarrioress]

"Good morning."

It took her a moment to realize where she was and with whom. Exhaustion had eaten away her night. She stretched before opening her eyes then went deathly still. Why was she curled against him under his fur cloak? He pulled her against him for a moment and it all came rushing back to her. His cheerfulness was infectious and for a moment more she basked in the warmth of the closeness of their bodies. It went a small way to easing the growing ache in her body. The physical ache she could abide with. The raw hunger burning deep in her gut, she barely withstood. She needed to turn her attention to getting dressed so they could be on their way. They needed to find shelter soon.

Leaving his side, she moved around the smoldering remainder of their fire to dress. Without even a glance in his direction Myria headed off into the woods to hunt for something to break their fast with. Wandering down by a stream not far away, she rummaged along the shore line until she found some eggs and raided the nests. Once she returned to camp, the fire had been stirred to life. Myria made some mud from dirt and ash, covering the eggs in it before burying them in the still glowing coals from the fire of last night. She let them “bake” for a time before dragging them out with a forked stick. They were left to cool until they were about to start moving again. As they trudged along, Myria broke the clay-like shell around the eggs and handed a couple of peeled ones to Bjorn with hardly a sound. Then peeled the leftover two for herself.

Their day passed quietly. Myria had nothing to say, she was too steeped in her own misery and needs. She had glanced his way a couple of times, her eyes taking in his moving form. That only served to make her ache harder. Best to keep her eyes and her mind on their surroundings. The latter was harder to do but sheer force of will made it so. Myria had no idea where they were going and she could have bet her arrows that Bjorn didn’t either. All he wanted to do was get away from his clan and that took a great deal of personal fortitude.

The sun was riding low in the sky when they stumbled upon an old cabin. The door swung on a single hinge. Abandoned. Good. Cautiously they entered. There wasn’t anything to see. The place was empty except for dust, grim and the occasional spider dangling from a ceiling corner.

"Abandoned. This looks as good of a place as any to spend the night. With any luck, perhaps I can fix this place up. Doesn't look like its had residents in quite some time."

He broke the silence they had fallen into since breaking camp earlier in the day. She turned on her heel to face him with the intent to escape his presence by going to hunt up some wood for the small fireplace built into one wall. He forestalled her however.

"I'm going to gather some firewood. I'll be right back. Start clearing some of this crap out of here. Wish we had a broom or something too, all this dust is making it hard to breathe......."

She turned her back on him as her eyes looked about the empty space again. A fire would be a good place to start. Myria gave a sharp nod of her head, moving further into the room. There was only the echo of her boots on the floor that bounced off the walls. When looking over her shoulder she noticed he was gone. The quiver of arrows were slid from her back and propped up against a wall close by, accompanied by her bow. There was no broom but maybe she could do something about that. The shuffle of feet echoed around the room as she headed outside again, having spied a tree on one side of the house. Littering the ground, close to the knotted trunk of the tree were twigs of all lengths and sizes. Gathering a handful of them, she tested the ground with a sweeping motion. Not the best of brooms, but maybe it could work. She just needed something to tie the one end of the twigs with. Wandering back behind the cabin her eyes pied two things that made her eyes light up, a length of old rope, coiled by another tree trunk and an old water trough. There was a small shed without a door as well. Peeking her head inside, all she spied inside was a wooden bucket sitting in a far corner. Could anything be more perfect?

By the time Bjorn returned, the cabin had swept in some fashion. Cobwebs and spiders had been removed. The wooden water trough was set before the fireplace and the bucket alongside. The water pump outside, with some coaxing, produced cold water. Myria had gathered sticks for kindling and stacked it next to the open fireplace. She had tipped over the trough and examined it thoroughly. There were no leaks of any kind. A bath, she thought, would be heavenly. One last look around then gathering up bow and arrows, she slipped from the cabin to search for their nightly meal.

~~ ~~​

Sylvannia was cold. Even though she wore warm clothing and a thick fur cape, her tiny body under it all, shook from the chill that was setting into her bones. She huddled before a small fire she had built just inside a small cave she had found. It got her out of the weather, but the fire was slow to warm. A small scrawny rabbit was roasting over the fire, drops of fat making a sizzling sound as they found their way into the heat below. The smell made Syl’s tummy rumble. Renalta was lost to her. The dryad would keep Renalta for however long she wished, though could not go beyond seven years. Syl almost felt jealous of her previous companion. The dryad had proven to be an excellent lover and Renalta would want for nothing, except her freedom and after a time in the dryad’s company, not even that. Syl turned the makeshift spit as the rabbit’s skin crisped and looked around the small dark corner of a cave. At least she had shelter from the elements, food for her belly and a bit of warmth.

~~ ~~​

Myria had scared up a small flock of fowl and managed to shoot down one of them. Luckily it was plump enough to feed both of them, but they would have to share. Taking a bit of time, Myria scouted the area for the remaining two herbs she needed, but to no avail. Disheartened, she headed back for the cabin. The sun was slowly sinking beyond the horizon as her footfalls turned back toward the cabin and the man waiting for her.

 

[dryfter]

He was careful to only select deadfall. Fortunately branches and twigs were easy to spot and just as easy to gather this time of year. Bjorn knew well how most forest elves felt about the harming of trees. If they had indeed suffered his presence for this long, he wasn't about to anger any of them now. Though deep down he knew he already had just by taking Myria as his own. If they knew about him, knew where he was.....he would already have been slain by now.

He was alone for the first time since he had raped her into his servitude. It was a chilling realization, and yet, the barbarian wasn't about to just roll over and give up on life. Not with her still running freely about, perhaps in these very same woods.

He had a blood price to pay. If Bjorn closed his eyes, he could almost hear Tristan's boasting and laughter, the way the firelight of a shared campfire played with the shadows across his face. He would find her. Find her and claim her for his own.

Her freedom was measured in days.

Of course he had said nothing of this to Myria. The elven warrioress had been stubborn at first and slow to come around to her desire for him. Even now, she had yet to make any advance on her own and had to be coaxed. Bjorn frowned softly, this was most unlike those of her kind he had seen back at the clanhold. Then again, those elves had been fucked quite frequently, some of them even shared among the clan leaders if found to be particularly beautiful. It was almost a game to them....bets placed on whom the offspring would most look like.

Bjorn snorted in disgust. Such a thing, sharing such a lovely creature as an elf, was best left for the direst of punishments rather than flaunted for amusement. At least, that was what he thought. A stray twig clattered to the ground and tried its best to weave between his ankles and trip him up. Bjorn slowed his pace immediately and calmly, carefully extricated himself from the lively branch.

When he returned, he was surprised and most pleased to find the makeshift place cleaner and a little less dusty thanks to Myria's improvised broom.

"I found these for a fire, some are larger than others. No logs unless we can find an axe laying around somewhere. If that ever happens, there's a fallen tree due east of us. Looks like its been lightning struck, but there's still plenty of good burnable wood."

He watched as she took her leave of him. By the time she returned, he had a fire going in the ramshackle fireplace the cabin sported. It wasn't much, given the circumstances. But then....it was fledgling at best. For now, he simply fed the feeble flame more sustenance......it would grow.

Hours later, and they were both enjoying roast fowl. It wasn't much, but Bjorn had gone days with much less. This was two days in a row now that he had eaten, and eaten meat at that! For her part, Myria seemed to be taking pride in being complimented as a hunter and proving herself useful to him. The barbarian was simply glad to see she was acting more relaxed around him.....less aloof and a lot less hostile. He was no fool. He knew full well that their actions earlier had taken a toll on her resistance, a resistance he planned to push well past its breaking point until she could no longer argue.....even with herself.....whom she belonged to.

The sun had just set, and the cabin was silent now that they had both eaten.

"Would you like to hear a story?"

Bjorn simply stared into the flames, much as he had when sharing just such a fire with his old friend. An old friend that seemed to be on his mind quite a bit today. And so the barbarian youth shared his mind....

And let the night run away with them both......

 

[DarkWarrioress]

Their stomachs were full. The fire was warm. The bucket of water she had placed close to the fire to heat it, must be warm by now. Getting up and reaching for the bucket, she poured the contents into the tub she had drug in earlier. It sat at an angle to the fire itself. Throughout their meal, she had periodically gotten up, dumped water into it and fetched another bucketful to heat. The tub was made of tin and absorbed heat so it was Myria’s hope that the water in the tub would be warm by the time she got into it.

"Would you like to hear a story?"

His voice drew her eyes to his face. She had never thought of herself as given to any male. Amongst her own kind, she had found no mate nor a male that had shown interest in her. It wasn’t so unexpected. Her race was dying off. The males that mated, hardly ever produced a child. If they managed to do so, they were whisked away to the palace. Rumor had it, they were made princes and lived in idle luxury. gilded birds in a golden cage, so to speak. They were a precious commodity. The survival means to their race. Something had happened over the years. Something had gone terribly awry. In a place where children’s laughter had been boisterous and plentiful, there was now little of it. A mere echo of what had once been. Her hand had slipped to her stomach. She knew now that his seed had not taken from the one time he had taken her, in the claiming. Her lunar cycle had come and gone. She was grateful. Yet, knowing the dangers, she hungered for him. Her body hungered for him. Last evening, she had serviced him. He had shown her another way to pleasure him.

And another way of claiming her.

The voice in her head tormented her. As if Myria needed to be tormented any more.

Her fingers found the buckles of her breastplate and undid them. One by one. As it loosened she lifted it from her shoulders, setting it aside. He wanted to tell her a story. Very well. It would be a pleasant way to wind down the evening hours until they slept. Her fingers twitched the thin fabric she wore over her chest and dropped it to the floor. Myria’s eyes had not left his face. Since he posed the question. Her hands paused at the ties of her trews as she nodded her head.

“I would like that. I hope you do not mind if I take advantage of the fire and this tub. I can’t remember the last time I had a soak in a tub and when I found this one, I knew I couldn’t resist.”

Her hands untied her pants, palms sliding between her skin and the rougher material, pushing the pants off her hips and down her legs before stepping out of them. He had seen her naked before. He had been between her thighs before. There was nothing to hide. The room was cold and right here, in front of the fire, was the warmest place to be. There was no place or room for modesty, not in their current situation.

Myria climbed into tub and sank down into water that was tepid. Still, it was heavenly. Water that was anything but bone chilling cold. A sigh left her lips as her head rested back against the rim of the tub. What little warmth there was, started to seep into her bones, making her sigh in pleasure. Myria opened her eyes to fasten her look upon him again.

“Go on,” she gently encouraged, “I’m listening.”

She sat up slightly, careful not to make the water slosh to the floor as she unbound her hair, ruffling it with her fingers until it was like a dark silken cloud about her shoulders. Tipping her head back, her hair fell into the water. The action causing her firm breasts to tip upward as her back arched. Glistening wet fingers combed through her tresses until not one strand was dry. It lay wet and plastered to her head. Settling back again, she waited for him to begin. Under the water, her fingertips brushed over her breasts, her fingernails scraping over the nipples, making her tingle all over, especially between her thighs. Myria bit down on her bottom lip to keep from moaning and alerting her master. Her eyes turned from his face to stare into the fire, watching the flames dance. Regardless of what she didn’t want him to know, she couldn’t still her fingers. Last eve, there had been no personal satisfaction in it for her and the act had only made her body hunger more. Myria knew how to handle a great many things, but what he had made her feel was not one of them.

 

[dryfter]

"Report."

The olive skinned maiden at her feet never once raised her gaze. Instead, thin lips parted as long, melodious flow of elven poured forth in response. More than one set of delicately arched ears were keenly interested in what this one had to say.

"The human is alive and well, ma'am. We were duped completely. They have taken up residence for the evening in the witch's old cabin. The western edge of the woods. It is unclear if they plan to stay or if this is merely a temporary residence."

The sylvan elf obviously in charge here remained impassive, though her aquamarine eyes shone with an almost magical intensity.

"And the elf?"

Finally, her subordinate lifted her gaze to look upon her war chieftain....

"We believe her to be a survivor of the battle with the orcs fought months ago, though to confirm her identity we would have to consult with the capitol. She is not one of ours, of course."

The full lips of their leader turned towards a frown, and the lower ranked elf hastened to bring better news.

"I was unseen, lady. I am certain that neither the human, nor his elf guardian spotted me while scouting them. On the western edge, they are quite far from us, and pose no threat. Though if it is your wish, I will take a chosen few and end them."

The submissive promise at the end of the woman's report achieved its desired effect, once more putting her leader in a much better mood, evidenced by the soft smile that put an end to her souring mood.

"That won't be necessary. Though I want you to continue to watch them from time to time. I want to know why an elven sex slave has been permitted to wear armor, to carry a sword. The battle you describe was fought well over a month ago, yet all reports clearly state the woman isn't showing, or burdened with child in any way. I want to know why. I will have my answer before deciding what to do with the human."

The elven ranger merely nodded silently.

"If they leave the forest, your task ends. I will not risk you out in the open where more than just humans might find you, understood?"

Another soft nod.

"Then go."

Like the soft rustle of the wind, the wood elf's departure was felt more than it was heard. Not even the closing of her oaken door was permitted the slightest of sounds.....

No sooner had one departed, than another arrived to take her place. Such was her life in the position she had inherited. With a soft sigh.....the sylvan chieftain prepared herself for a long day.

"New information, milady. The human and his elf had a run in with Liandra."

The firm, svelte body beneath the layers of leathers and fur armor stiffened slightly. The dryad? What good could have possibly come of such a meeting? And how had the two of them proceeded to the western edge of the forest? A direct confrontation with the forest spirit would have surely stolen away the male's heart. Yet he continued to be an issue.

"Speak then. Quickly."

The newcomer bowed softly, kneeling at the feet of her superior much the same as the previous guest had. Long ringlets of ashen hair brushing the hardwood floor beneath her.

"The elf was most ferocious in her defense of the human, and once had Liandra at sword point despite the presence of her guardians."

"Foolish. Not even I dare stand against the full might the dryads can bring. Its what makes them such good defense for our west flank."

The ranger merely nodded before continuing as her war leader reached for a wooden chalice and the cool water within.

"She let them pass, and not once did the human attempt to claim her, though she was more than ready should he have tried."

A soft, thoughtful swallow, a pink tongue rolling softly along her lips. She wasn't completely oblivious to how the sight made the slight girl at her feet shiver just a little.

"I am having them watched carefully. Continue to report to me any new news you may hear. I must be made ready to report should the General of the West e'er return."

--------------------------------------------------------------------
“Go on,” she gently encouraged, “I’m listening.”

It was difficult to go on with anything, and she had to know it. Certainly not with her undressing before him, no longer ashamed in any form, not so much as a blush on her face. For a moment, Bjorn could feel a flare of lust stir the edges of his kilt as he found himself once more admiring her wild, natural beauty. The thought that her stubbornness had begun to fade only excited him more.

He could reach out and touch her if he wanted to. Could come up from behind her as she slid beneath those placid waters and cup her full breasts....tease her....

She would not only let him....but would probably beg him for more. Was she that far under his control yet? If not, how soon? A part of him wanted desperately to push that envelope and see just how far she had fallen. And yet, the other, stronger part of him knew that half of her beauty lie in her pride. He did not have to break that....not when he knew eventually she.....would come to him.

And so his eyes softly closed as he began recounting his travels with his best friend. They had been close from the moment they had set out together, both knowing they might very well depend on the other for survival in the days to come.

It wasn't until he brought back the memories of his death that his eyes opened once more, full of stormy promise and with an edge of cold that rivaled the chill of the outdoors.

"I will find her. I will pull her raven locks back to me as I take her as I have taken you, and I will make sure she knows why this fate has befallen her. She has made herself into a challenge, a prize that no man of my clan could turn from. Not after spilling the blood of a brother. I accept her challenge, and I will have her."

 

[DarkWarrioress]

It seemed like a long pause before he began to speak of his travels with his friend. In those moments, she wondered what he was thinking. Myria had caught him watching her undress before she got into the tub to soak. It hadn’t been unexpected. His desire for her was always obvious but so had been his care. He confused her at times.

Glancing back his way, she found his eyes open, staring into space. The look in them was frosty as winter’s morning.

"I will find her. I will pull her raven locks back to me as I take her as I have taken you, and I will make sure she knows why this fate has befallen her. She has made herself into a challenge, a prize that no man of my clan could turn from. Not after spilling the blood of a brother. I accept her challenge, and I will have her."

His words made her breath suck inward sharply, though quietly. Myria’s hands stirred the surface of the water. She glanced down at the water. Her feelings were in turmoil. Envy. Jealousy. Pity. Gratefulness. A challenge. A prize. Is that what she was envious/jealous of? There was a slight shake of her head. No. It was the passion she heard in his voice. His conviction. His determination. Her eyes stayed glued to the water. If she met his eyes now…. too much of herself would be visible. He would see her vulnerability and that was not acceptable.

~~ ~~​

The other two stayed within the chambers as she beckoned her first lover closer. Lyeth wasn’t so sure she was at ease with having the other two in the same room, privy to the current mating but the Elders deemed it necessary to make the other males retain their readiness to service her. Slender fingers slid up a hard Elven chest, parting his robe as they went. She stepped closer, her lips lingering on his skin in places as his robe fell unheeded to the floor. Aael looked uneasy. Her lips coursed their way up the side of his neck until they found his ear.

“Ignore them, Aael. We’ve been through this before, yes? It should be nothing to you by now. Turn your thoughts to the fact that it is you, touching me. You, who will be inside me.”

She pressed closer. One hand slipping between their bodies to cup him in a warm palm. Fingers closed around his semi-erectness and slowly began stroking him.

“Close your eyes, Aael. Feel me.”

Her whisper was soft. Seductive. Her lips moved to the corner of his lips. The tip of Lyeth’s tongue teased him there. His head turned, lowered, capturing her lips with his own. Both sets of lips parted at the same time as tongues twined and stroked. He was hardening further in her hand, making her moan softly. Aael was a strong lover. He always sated her. Her orgasmic contractions pulled his seed, such as it was, deep into her body. Her fingers ceased their stroking only to move to capture the twin sacs dangling between his legs, caressing them. That small action seemed to trigger something in him. His hands tore off her clothing, littering the chamber’s floor before he picked her up and tossed her to the bed. His hands reached for her, placing her in the position he wanted. From the edge of the bed, he drew her legs up under her, making her kneel before him, exposing and offering her feminine core to him. Aael bent, his tongue finding her lips and splitting them as his tongue delved, making her hips arch back toward him, her fingers curl into the bedding and as his tongue stroked her, making her mew in passionate wanting.

He prepared his queen well. Coming upright, he directed his cock into her and grabbing her hips, began thrusting. If there was an occasional sound from behind them, neither of them acknowledged it. Aael kept thrusting into his queen’s body, his fingers sliding over her hip to slip lower and find the little nub of flesh that had her grinding back against his cock, burying it deeply into her until the tip could actually feel her cervix. He grasped it between forefinger and thumb, stroking it much as she had stroked him earlier. He leaned over her, his lips pressed against the back of her ear. The touch of his lips there made her quiver.

“That’s it, My Queen. Open to me. Let me fill your womb with my seed so that one may take hold. Cum for me. Cum strongly.”

Lyeth’s thighs spread a little wider as he rode her deeply. His movements speeding up until he was slamming into her body. His hands sought out her breasts, cupping and squeezing them.

“Offer yourself up to my gift, Oh, Queen of the Fae. Let it be my seed that impregnates you this night.”

Her hips tipped upward unconsciously as her cheek pressed into the mattress. One palm deserted her breast, reaching back down to cup between Lyeth’s legs, rubbing her furiously as her hips churned back against him. The queen was whimpering in need as she sought to his release. Their bodies moved in tandem furiously, his thrusting up into her, trying to get his cock lodged into her cervix. She felt the pressure of him pressing against her there. Her body was so slick with need and desire, that it softened enough to allow him to slip inside. The pain his entrance brought was forgotten in the ravaging need. Hers to submit. His to claim. His hips pressed against the rounded curve of her buttocks as his body finally flowed with his release. His shaft twitching as he surged his hips harder against her as if he could get more of himself inside her. His palm cupped between her legs, pressing against her firmly, holding her in place. Spurt after spurt left him, leaving him exhausted beyond measure. Aael slumped on her back until he could feel a slight stickiness against his fingers. He hurriedly withdrew, turning Lyeth to lie on the bed, placing her legs on his shoulders until her hips were elevated, insuring the security of his offering stayed in her womb.

His eyes met hers. All that was left was to see if it took. Their shared look spoke silently of the same thing. It wasn’t likely.

 

[dryfter]

He watched her. Never stopped watching her. Smiled softly, silently to himself as a small shifting to get comfortable also revealed Myria's fingers to be quite busy beneath the surface of the water. Yet she kept her gaze from him, not wanting her weakness to show, not wanting to give away the secret he had noticed already on his own.

Bjorn stayed silent, letting her keep her pride for now. She was falling, and she knew it. Myria would serve him completely, loyally, and very little would get in the way of that now. Certainly not if just being around him affected her this much.

"You will help me find her, Myria."

That finally brought about a response as he knew it would. Bjorn also knew she had come to that conclusion on her own long ago. The only question to remain was how she felt about taking such an active role. The more time she spent about him, pleasuring him and in turn receiving pleasure.....the more she would bend to him, of that he was sure.

"Your people have a hard time with conception, don't they?"

He waited for her to react, to respond, anything before continuing.....even though it meant a tense few minutes between them.

"You know that it would only take one more time inside you and you would be growing flush with new life."

Bjorn watched her reaction carefully, learning much of emotions she kept deeply hidden from him by doing so.

"Why then don't the elves willingly bed the humans? The offspring is still half elven, yes? If they bring just a fraction of the virility of their human sires, would that not breath fresh life into your race?"

It was a question that had bothered him for years. The elves were dying out, and yet, seemed content to do so rather than sleep with the....barbarians....they hated so much. The hatred ran just as deep on the other side as well. The one time he had dared ask this very same question to his father, the old man had snorted and promptly cuffed the back of Bjorn's head with a heavy hand.

Elves are slaves, and nothing more. Servants used to breed good strong workers so that we don't have to work the mines ourselves. You'll learn this when you bed your first elf, foolish boy....and see her individuality, her very mind fade away for the simple desire of repeated thrustings of your cock.

And yet Myria hadn't lost her individuality. Nor was she readily slavering over the offerings of his kilt either. Indeed, she had lasted far longer than any elf his clansmen had ever brought home. Was it because he hadn't bred her? Would her mind snap and become useless if he burdened her with child? Or was it.....that he had given her a purpose? In his clan, the elf slaves purpose had been to pleasure and display their feminine fertility to their owners. But Myria had a very different purpose.....one she had followed to the letter so far.

Perhaps it was time to experiment with the matter. And that....meant finding another elf. Thankfully, the race wasn't anywhere near far enough gone that finding an elven female would be a problem for either of them. In fact....having Myria with him only made it easier.

"You will not be my only pet, Myria. Surely, you've realized that by now having seen that my own father dallied with more than just one of your kind. Unlike him, I will not be sharing of your treasures with other men unless displeasure with you dictates that be meted out as a punishment. But I think we both know what would come to pass before that happened. You would be stripped of your clothing, your armors, your sword, and your favor. You would then take your place among the lowest of my elven slaves and bred properly."

A soft smile crossed his lips at the very thought, his gaze was kept downward so he missed any reaction she might have displayed.

"You will serve me completely, won't you?"

 

[DarkWarrioress]

"You will help me find her, Myria."

Reluctantly her eyes turned in his direction and she wished she hadn’t done it. Even though she had felt him watching her, it was another thing altogether to actually feel their looks clash together. Myria swallowed and sat up straighter in her tub.

How could this possibly be happening to her? She couldn’t imagine turning on one of her own kind. Yet, there was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as her eyes wandered over Bjorn sitting not too far away. Even now she could feel the pull of her loins. The fire that was banked within them that brought an ache to her being. Myria could feel the muscles, deep between her legs clench and twitch. Absentmindedly, as her eyes continued to drink in his presence, a fingers stroked over the lips that hid the core of her femininity. It slid between those lips, stroking upward across that small nub of pleasure, almost making her jump in the cooling water she was sitting in. It was by sheer force of her own will that made her stop. She bit down on her own lip to keep from groaning aloud.

"Your people have a hard time with conception, don't they?"

He already knew that, didn’t he? It wasn’t a secret. The Elves were a diminishing race and no one understood why or how it happened. She went rigid and stiff, drawing her legs up and encircling them with her arms as she sharply looked away. At first, it was thought that the females of her race were at fault. They couldn’t conceive. When their womenfolk began disappearing, captured by the humans, scouts had been sent out to find them. When the reports came back that some of the female elves bellies were swollen with child, it became clear. The problem did not lie with the females. The problem completely male. Something had happened to their sperm. Children, male or female, were hard to conceive period, but putting a viable male progeny into a female’s belly was proving to be a harder thing to accomplish. Yet, when mated with a human male, no such problem existed. The human male had no problem begetting a child, male or female, on a female elf.

"You know that it would only take one more time inside you and you would be growing flush with new life."

Myria shot him a look of raw fear that she couldn’t hide. Fingers crept across her flat belly, a palm pressing against it as she felt the blood drain from her face. Surely he wouldn’t….. he had promised her….. she had done everything he had tasked her with so far.


"Why then don't the elves willingly bed the humans? The offspring is still half elven, yes? If they bring just a fraction of the virility of their human sires, would that not breath fresh life into your race?"

How did she explain this to him? Her eyes took on a far-away look. When Myria began to speak, she wasn’t looking at him, although she was acutely aware of him.

“How do I try to make you understand? I am descended from a race beyond Time. We’re older than the hills you climb or the waters you swim in. Our bloodlines have been pure until now. In days of Olde, Elves would rather die than give birth to a mixed race. If it is meant for us to die off, then it shall be so. There are those who do not see our noble lineage as anything to be proud of. All they see is that we are dying. There is honor in death. There are wisdoms and knowledge passed down from generations before us that should only be passed down to others of our kind. It’s our heritage. Ours, no others. There was a time we took pride in that. The knowledge and ways of Elves was something we took pride into passing down to our children, knowing that they, too, would pass it onto their own children. We were, are, proud that we come from such a noble, elder race.”

Myria didn’t know how else to explain it. Like an elder tree whose roots went deep and strong into the Earth. There was a connectivity with the Earth, the Air, Water and Fire, the eldest of the elements. They, the Elves, were part of that. She didn’t expect anyone, other than one of their own, to understand.

Her last words dropped into the silence surrounding them, only the fire crackled and popped.

"You will not be my only pet, Myria. Surely, you've realized that by now having seen that my own father dallied with more than just one of your kind. Unlike him, I will not be sharing of your treasures with other men unless displeasure with you dictates that be meted out as a punishment. But I think we both know what would come to pass before that happened. You would be stripped of your clothing, your armors, your sword, and your favor. You would then take your place among the lowest of my elven slaves and bred properly."

She flinched.

A pet. Like a dog that was thrown scraps of food. Rewarded for doing “good” in his eyes as he dictated. Punished, worse than a dog for disobedience, as he defined it. At least a dog got kicked and it hid from its master until the master’s temper cooled. A pet, her to be exact, to be stripped of everything she was and then handed over to other men to be used or even worse, impregnated by one of them. A fate, he knew, she would do anything to avoid. Thusly, he kept her “in line, like a good little pet”. She was use to equality and as his captive, his pet, she had none. The injustice of her fate scraped against her skin like bark and yet…. And yet…. That didn’t stop her body from wanting him. It couldn’t stop the minute changes in her thinking from growing and reshaping her. Myria felt impotent to stop it. Most days, she wasn’t even aware of it happening.

"You will serve me completely, won't you?"

His words brought her eyes back into focus and found his bent head. Her heart wanted her lips to tell him she never would.

Her eyes spoke differently.

 

[dryfter]

"There is no honor in death."

The words were flat, lifeless, and completely sincere.

"Perhaps in dying, but not in death. And the way your people have chosen to die isn't honorable. It's stubborn."

He slid towards the tub, right there as she dared to raise her head, no doubt ready to fire off some form of retort. Bjorn could see the emotions race through her eyes as she realized just how close he had come, she was well within reach, he was practically at the edge of the tub. All that she was, was displayed before him, including the mischievous fingers that she had kept buried between her aching thighs.

"You fear me."

His words were simple. It wasn't a question, not when he knew it to be truth. Myria not only feared him for what he had done to her, but she no doubt was terrified of the changes that still went on within her own body, her own mind. Her resistance would only prevail for so long before she would crumble.

"And yet, you desire me. You know this to be true."

He let his gaze sweep across her, the water doing little to hide where her hand lay. He hadn't missed how she had bitten her lower lip earlier, it had been the most feminine, utterly sexy thing he had seen her do all day. Even more so than the delightful blowjob she had given him earlier. There was just something irresistible about the way she struggled against his growing dominance.

The barbarian slipped closer....reaching for her, hearing her breath expelled as the result of his touch as it danced across her collarbone and lower to tease just the beginning of her womanly swells.

"Is serving me so bad? You want me even now, don't you? So bad that you try to find the relief that I've not granted you."

He leaned forward, his lips drifting across her pale neck, kissing lightly. His breathy words ghosting across her moist skin moments later as he moved to openly cup one of her firm breasts in a palm.

"I know you'd love to keep me all to yourself, wouldn't you?"

He was teasing her now, deliberately baiting to see how she would answer him, what secrets she would divulge.

"But you don't want to bear my children. I've told you that is punishment for you, let you keep your pride. So shouldn't you aid in finding others to perform the duties you fear the most?"

She quivered deliciously as he slowly tweaked a hardening nipple....watching her hesitation, knowing she was now on display.

"No no, my lovely elf. Please keep going....touch yourself....let me help you....."

His tongue reached for her then, gliding slowly along the delicate arch of one ear. He knew exactly how sensitive elven ears could be....had watched one of his clansman bring a slave to climax by simply suckling on the tip for long enough. .....

"You serve me, Myria. You are mine. Say it."

------------------------------------------------------

She was half naked, and still smelled of stale sex. The silent watcher continued to observe the new elf as she stumbled along blindly through the forest, heedless of the potential danger in her path. Or perhaps there was no danger at all. Perhaps the human in their midst had already claimed a second elf. If that was the case, it should be reported immediately. For a second, she almost made her move, flitting back towards her small treetop village and the commander she knew awaited her. The war cheiftess would not be pleased, if indeed that was the case.....

Best to wait and make sure. This one certainly lacked the poise of the elf inside the cabin. The sylvan spy could tell at a glance that the poor girl had very little woodlore at all. Indeed, she seemed more like a spoiled noble girl who had gotten lost in the forest than anyone who knew what to do out here.....especially at night. Why was the girl travelling at night? And what had happened to leave her in such a disheveled state?

"A light......"

The words drifted up to the scout, and she flinched. She would have to make a decision soon. Was the girl tainted? The light could be a simple beacon that set her upon the correct path to her damned Master again. Or she could really be an innocent.....one about to face a terrible future unless stopped.

But that stopping....meant that she would have to reveal herself.....and that in turn risked her own corruption.....

Silently, the scout watched the lone elf cautiously approach the cabin.....

 

[DarkWarrioress]

"There is no honor in death. Perhaps in dying, but not in death. And the way your people have chosen to die isn't honorable. It's stubborn."

Her lips parted to argue, but why? What would it solve? He would still not understand. Dying was just the path to the ultimate. Death. Honor was honor. She could no more explain how her race felt about the purity of their line. It was something that was a part of them. Something, they were born with. Yes, it was a pride but it was more than pride. Myria was at a loss how to articulate her thoughts.

"You fear me."

His words came as he lifted his head and the shock that rolled through her as their eyes met was…. Indescribable. Three little words, yet they made her breath catch somewhere in her chest until her lungs screamed at her to breathe and it wasn’t only his words, he had moved closer to her tub and therefore, closer to her.
There was a stillness surrounding them now. A tension. His next words made her want to sink to the bottom of the tub and let the water swallow her

"And yet, you desire me. You know this to be true."

Was she so transparent? So much for hiding what she was feeling behind stoic eyes. Torn between wanting to deny it, vehemently and or not saying anything at all, the truth in her chose the latter. She knew her eyes spoke the truth within, there was no need to acknowledge his power over her. Myria now knew that the rumors were true. There was something about or within human males that made female elves unable to resist them. His father’s whore had proven that.

His gaze relinquished her own. She could feel his skirt across her wet form. Closer still, he moved. Rough fingers flinted across her collarbone. The elf could feel her skin tighten at his touch. The air held captive in her lungs was raggedly expelled. Fingertips found the starting swell of her breasts and in an involuntary response, her nipples, barely covered by the waterline, stiffened.

"Is serving me so bad? You want me even now, don't you? So bad that you try to find the relief that I've not granted you."

Her fingers stilled on her thighs, but she didn’t shift them guiltily away. She didn’t know what to expect from him but certainly it wasn’t his next words or his lips, as he leaned in closer, trailing his lips across her sensitive neck, the whisper of his words heating and chilling her skin as they skimmed across it as his palm laid claim to one firm, rounded breast. She shivered, unable to contain it.

"I know you'd love to keep me all to yourself, wouldn't you?"

Myria refused to look at him, instead, she stared into the empty space somewhere over his shoulder.

"But you don't want to bear my children. I've told you that is punishment for you, let you keep your pride. So shouldn't you aid in finding others to perform the duties you fear the most?"

Her fingers dug into the soft flesh of her thighs. Silence remained, even though she couldn’t stop the quiver of her body as he tweaked her hardened nipple.

"No no, my lovely elf. Please keep going....touch yourself....let me help you....."

The tip of his tongue found the shell of her ear. It moved with seductive slowness , following the line and curve of her ear. It was damn near her undoing. Her ears were sensitive, very sensitive. Hence, her acute hearing. He not only made her body quiver, but that place… that place between her thighs, clenched and unclenched. Throbbing pierced her core. There was no containing the small whimper that left her slightly parted lips.

"You serve me, Myria. You are mine. Say it."

Her lips parted, fingers desperately digging fiercely into thigh flesh.

“I---“

There was an undeniable knock on the cabin door.

~~ ~~​

Sylvannia had been traveling on foot for most of the day. She was tired, exhausted, thirsty and starving. Her horse had come up lame and the reins hung limply in one hand as she trudged closer to the cabin door before knocking on it. Having seen the smoke from a distance, it was a welcome sight. Hopefully those within wouldn’t mind her intrusion. At this point, all she wanted was to sleep safely. Food and water could wait. Her pert little nose wrinkled as she smelled herself. A bath wouldn’t go amiss either but a bath would be a luxury. Her arms folded across her body as it started to shiver. At least she hadn’t noticed the cold so much while trudging through the snow.

Hurry. Please hurry and answer the door, I beg you. She silently entreated whomever was on the other side.

For the first time since leaving the Keep, Syl was beginning to regret her rash decision to search out her sister. She was bone weary and wanted nothing more than to be warm and fed. She wasn’t cut out for traipsing through the forests. Syl was spoiled. She could admit it. Her parents had always doted on her and in her later years, her beauty had captivated men, enticing them to do her bidding. A kiss given had brought gifts, words of undying love but it was only when she spread her legs, Syl learned where her true power lie. Men would kill to have her and, she had to admit, she found the act pleasing as well as satisfying, majority of the time. Sylvannia had no problem taking her pleasure from either sex, male or female. Pleasure was pleasure, no matter how it came about. Myria was different. She had always been different. Her sister was everything she wasn’t. There was a certain envy in Syl and perhaps, if she cared to claim it, a jealousy. Men looked at Myria differently even though Myria never seemed to notice, Sylvannia did. Still, despite her feelings, Syl had to admit that Myria had always looked after her. Myria was the one that took care of unwanted situations that arose from Syl’s amorous activities.

Sylvannia raised a shaky hand to knock on the door again……

 

[dryfter]

The knock had startled him badly, and from the way her muscles tensed beneath his capricious touch, Myria was only slightly better off.

"Answer it."

Again that sudden tense. Oh the stories it told! Resistance perhaps? Fear? Or some other emotion he'd not found her to illicit yet? Silently he moved to where their swords lie together as his elven slave rose from the water, deftly catching the weapon tossed her way. Bjorn barely noticed, held far better by the study of how the shimmering rivulets of water chose their paths down her sleek, perfect figure. If only she knew how the sight of her right now made him throb! The barbarian half wanted to see that look in her eyes, the look of knowing he desired her, and far past the simple servicing of him that she had done earlier. He had hit the nail right on the head earlier, and he knew it.....internally, she was most likely praying to her gods right now that he would keep his promise to her.

But would she remain like that forever? Myria was continuously evolving now. Her wandering fingers beneath the bathtub was enough proof of that.....

"As you are."

There was no time for donning armor, nor was it likely she needed them against anything meek enough to knock. At best, she might be in danger of being raped again by anything male that might behold the sight of her. He would step in long before anything like that were to happen. She was his now.

For his part, Bjorn looked for a place to hide, finding a place easily enough amid the cobweb strewn closet Myria had found the broom in earlier. It was taller and more spacious than it had first appeared, yet Bjorn found himself still needing to stoop a little. Keeping the rickety door cracked for fresh air as much as a desire to view Myria's heart shaped elven ass, the barbarian could at least see the doorway unimpeded.

His hearing was even less hindered......and so as the door opened to the wintry chill, a breeze that no doubt hardened the moist sensitive bits of his elf almost painfully.....

It wasn't a gasp of chilly surprise that surprised him....that had been expected......

"Sister?!," had not been.

 

[DarkWarrioress]

The sudden unexpected knock on the door startled her. Her eyes flashed to Bjorn’s face. He looked just as startled.

"Answer it."

His tone brooked no argument. She was naked and in a tub of water. Why couldn’t he just answer it himself? He remained where he was, close to her tub, though his fingers had fallen away from her breast. She wasn’t sure, in that moment, if she was disappointed or relieved. Silently as ever, she stood up in the warm tub of water. Water cascaded over her shoulders causing rivulets to slither down over her breasts, landing somewhere on her lower abdomen before streaming downward to pool slightly into the indentation of her belly button before meandering down lower, losing itself between her thighs. Droplets formed on her hardened nipples. Amethyst eyes sought her clothing , still puddled on the floor not far away.


Instinct caused her to look back his way in time to adroitly catch the sword he tossed her way. Moving to step from the tub, Myria reached for her clothes only to be halted before her fingers could claim them.

"As you are."

Her heart froze in her chest. A small feminine hand drew back as she straightened her backbone. Eyes flew back to his face to ascertain if he was serious. He was. Elven eyes narrowed minutely. What game was he playing with her now? Neither of them knew who was on the other side of that door. Her nakedness played no part of her awareness if she opened that door and had to defend him. She could and would spill blood, clothes on or off. It mattered naught to her. Stepping from the tub, from the warmth of water and fire, made her skin dimple from the cold surrounding them. Determined strides took her to the closed door where she paused. A glance over her shoulder showed that the only thing visible were her wet footprints on the wooden floor. Her master and keeper was nowhere to be seen. That glance flinted about the room even as there was another knock on the door, weaker this time. This drew Myria’s attention back. Her free hand raised to grasp the flimsy wooden bar across the door, removing it. Fingers curled around the handle. Weapon was held at the ready as Myria jerked open the door. She couldn’t stifle the sudden gasp as the chilly air struck her warm, wet body. Her sword was raised above her shoulder as a fur bundled person fell into the cabin, blonde hair masking their identity as they fell face first to the floor. A quick glance outside to insure no one else was there and the door was hastily closed. Weapon set aside. Myria knelt, turning the person over onto their back and gasped again in surprise as she pushed aside blonde hair. It was a gasp that echoed by the person on the floor who blinked in disbelief.

“Sister?”

“Myria?”

Silence reigned.

“Come. Let me help you up, Sylvannia. Let me help you to the fire, where there’s a modicum of warmth. What, in the name of the Gods, are you doing out, away from the fortress?”

Myria was stunned. Her younger sister was here. How? What made her venture from the safety of the fortress all alone?

“Why are you naked?” Syl countered.

Myria waved vaguely toward the tub that was nearby.

“Bathing. Your knock startled u--- uh---me.”

Gods. Bjorn. This wasn’t good. Her sister was beautiful. He would surely want to lay claim to her as well and Myria couldn’t let that happen.

“Listen, Sylvannia… I need to get you out of here,” she leaned close to Syl’s ear to whisper, “let me get dressed and we’ll get moving.”

“Myria. Nooo. I just got here and you have a fire. I’m so cold and starving.”

Sylvannia’s voice was petulant. Rightly so, perhaps. However, she had to hide Syl from Bjorn.

“I’ll build you another fire somewhere else.”

Her voice continued to be hushed even as she hurried over to retrieve her clothing.

“Myria,” Syl whined, “I don’t understand. Why do we have to leave this place? We have shelter here and a fire. What is wrong with you? I’m so tired, Myria.”

Sylvannie sprawled on the floor in front of the fire. Her hair spread around her head like a golden curtain, despite its lackluster color due to dirt and grime. With clothes in hand as well as sword, Myria marched over to where Syl lay and bent over her.

“Sylvannia! I’ll explain it all later. Right now we have to get out of here.”

The claimed elf’s voice held a slightly frantic tone as she glanced over her shoulder wondering where her master had disappeared to. She set her sword on the ground so she could dress with both hands.

“Sylvannia! Do not fall asleep on me. Sylvannia….. “

Clothes were discarded to the floor again as Myria reached out to shake her sister’s prone form.

 

[dryfter]

“Sylvannia! Do not fall asleep on me. Sylvannia….. “

He could see her stiffen the moment the closet door began to swing open, the hinges creaking in rusty agony at the slightest of motions. It was a sound that had eluded her in her earlier shock, but now....there was nothing to distract her, and Myria didn't have to turn and look to guess where he had been hiding himself.

He hadn't hidden from cowardice. He had the other blade after all, though ever becoming as skilled with it as Myria was seemed impossible. No, he had lived enough years at his father's lodge to develop certain....instincts.....

The knock on the door had been timid, uncertain. Certainly not the disciplined, commanding knock of a warrior or anyone with confidence at all. That ruled out the sylvan assassins that he feared. Not that he thought a wood elf would knock first anyway. Still...the lack of force behind the knock meant a possibility of prey, a possibility that turned into a reality as he watched the scene unfold before him from the broom closet. While he couldn't hear what Myria said, her words kept to the barest whisper after her initial outburst of recognition.....

“I don’t understand. Why do we have to leave this place? We have shelter here and a fire. What is wrong with you? I’m so tired, Myria.”

His fingers drifted down her shapely back, feeling her respond to his touch and knowing without asking....the dread it brought her. Bjorn declined to step into her view. If she wanted to see him, she could dare to turn around. Frankly, he was betting she wouldn't dare....

"Now then, isn't it best to let your sister rest?"

Gentle fingertips, questing and feather light, drifted lower towards her tailbone....slipping a palm appraisingly over her taut buttocks, pert and firm as she remained knelt over her sister. Bjorn didn't stop there however, a fingertip slipping deftly between her cheeks and lower still to tease the moist slit he knew was still warm and wet.....she had been playing with herself just a minute ago when she thought he didn't know after all. A lone digit slipped inside of her most guarded self, a place reserved only for him now. She was his.....it was time she started acting the part a little more.

He tugged upward, his finger still buried to the second knuckle within her silken vice. Soundlessly, he watched as her ass rose to a more accommodating position. He didn't really care if she was comfortable right now or not, not after what he had witnessed, could guess that she had tried to do.

"Now then.....you'd hate for her to wake up and see you like this, wouldn't you?"

He was close, hovering about her, his mouth the barest of distances from the arch of her ear and yet he could have been a mile away for as keen as he imagined Myria's hearing to be. Worse still was his arousal pressed against her pert rump, its length resting softly between her cheeks as his elf's body tried not to drip shamelessly onto the hardwood of the cabin floor.

It was perfect, Myria still hovering protectively over the slumbering form of her sister elf, even as he prepared to take what was his once more. For a moment, Bjorn thought he might have heard just a little groan escape the normally stoic warrioress....*****mpting a truly wicked smile......

"If she wakes, she can watch herself become an aunt. Of course, there's no guarantee I'll pull out of you, I'm rather disappointed in you after all. Didn't I tell you that its your duty to help me strengthen my position amongst your people?"

He had guessed, no...he knew....how terrified the thought made her. Bjorn was not above using that fear against Myria given the circumstances that had been delivered to him by what seemed divine providence.

"I tell you what....."

She could no doubt feel him pressing against her, feel the moment his thick and veined shaft finally began to ease into her tight little body, filling her with his virile meat. Bjorn moved slowly, in no hurry, especially after the service she had done for him hours earlier....

"If you can stay silent, I might just let you off the hook. Either way, I think its time we strengthened our bond, don't you think, my sexy little elf pet?"

The barbarian leaned forward with a toothy grin, tongue reaching out to slide softly along the ridge of her delicate ear......delighted in the almost instant response.

He certainly wasn't going to make it easy. He had every intent of making his pet shiver and cum, hopefully more than just once before the need to expend seed became an irrefutable demand of his loins. Even now, Bjorn reached about Myria's slender body, seeking out the nipples left rock hard from the chilly night air he had inflicted upon her. These he twisted and rolled between his fingers....his focus centering directly upon them rather than senselessly groping as he had in the past.

His thrusting may have been slow, but it lacked nothing in force, with each turgid lunge seeking to pierce the tight flesh of his defiant slave ever deeper than the last. While he didn't desire to break her.....it was time that she began to give in to him a little more, and that started by realizing what he could be capable of.

Realizing....and desiring it......

His tongue faded from her ear as instead he brought his teeth to bare against her, nibbling softly....not only the strange extra cartilage elves seemed to have.....but lower as well. Her tender, delicate throat was exposed, and so he danced flaming kisses along its length. He half wondered what it would be like to mark her, but swiftly discarded the thought for now. There was no one to see such a brand should he color her lovely flesh with it, nobody but her sister.....and Bjorn had already begun to calculate what to do with her......

"You're a naughty elf, aren't you? You've wanted your Master's cock all along, secretly playing with yourself in the bathtub. How does it feel now that I'm buried like this inside you. I bet you want me to force it in you harder, don't you? Faster? Until you feel me fill you completely up to your hot little core? Even though you know its so dangerous, it feels so good, doesn't it?"

Bjorn grinned as he worked on her psyche just a little to take his mind off the steadily growing ache of his own muscles, the soft sheen of sweat beginning to form on his own heated flesh.

He had to maintain control. He had no intention of letting up any time soon, nor letting Myria get off easily......

Just often.

 

[DarkWarrioress]

It was no use. Sylvannia was sound asleep. Exhaustion, no doubt. What was her sister doing out here beyond the protection of the fortress? Myria was still slightly leaning over her sister when she heard it. The unmistakable sound of a door creaking open. He had been in the closet, hiding. Perhaps with hope of jumping on their intruder unexpectedly. Myria’s mind raced.

Too late. Too late.

She glanced down at her pale sleeping sister. His touch, when it came, startled her. Myria knelt there, resolute. She did not want to wake Syl.

"Now then, isn't it best to let your sister rest?"

Her breath drew in a soft long drawn hiss. She didn’t flinch from his touch. Her traitorous body arched against his fingers as they trailed silken fire down her back. Her thighs parted all too willingly, awaiting his touch. Knowing, that it would come. His fingers slid down her spine, a palm paused to cup a butt cheek. Her spine straightened as she bit down on her bottom lip to keep from making a sound as a solitary finger drifted between taut, muscular cheeks, feathered across the tight opening there and teased the lips of her femininity before slipping past those plump guardians and sliding with ease into the tight cavern behind them.

Myria’s hands, palms flat against the wooden floor, pressed against that support as his hand tugged upward slightly. Her ass had jutted up and back, toward him. It was like she had no control over her body. She had been wanting this, wanting him, for some time now and there wasn’t a thread of refusal in her. She burned. Ached to be taken by him again.

"Now then.....you'd hate for her to wake up and see you like this, wouldn't you?"

He had closed in on her! His voice came from just behind her ear. He breathed warmly against it as he spoke. Her interior muscles clamped down the finger still held inside her. Myria felt the hard length of him pressed against her ass. Though her teeth were still biting into her bottom lip, she couldn’t keep the small whimper of need from escaping. Her eyes flashed to Sylvannia, hoping the girl still slept. She did.

"If she wakes, she can watch herself become an aunt. Of course, there's no guarantee I'll pull out of you, I'm rather disappointed in you after all. Didn't I tell you that its your duty to help me strengthen my position amongst your people?"

He wasn’t above using her fear to keep her line. Hadn’t he told her what her punishment would be if she failed him? How much had he heard of her hushed conversation with her sister? Was he about to bury his seed within her body and impregnate her? A shudder ripped through her body.

"I tell you what....."

She could feel the head of his manhood rub against her. His finger withdrew slowly, leaving her wanting and growing more desperate. The head of his cock slipped once more between her lips, only this time penetrated. He pushed his hips forward slowly, filling her, inch by inch, making her want to scream from the sheer exquisite torture of it. Myria could feel her body giving way to his invasion. Felt him spreading her open to accommodate his length and thickness. Given her concern for her sister at the time, she wasn’t as wet as she had been in the tub. That soon changed as his cock laid claim to her body once more.

"If you can stay silent, I might just let you off the hook. Either way, I think its time we strengthened our bond, don't you think, my sexy little elf pet?"

He leaned over her slightly as the tip of his tongue slid around the shell of her ear. A tingle kissed her spine. Her skin quivered. Her hips pressed back toward his. He added to his assault on her senses and her body by reaching around her and deft fingers found, rolling and tweaking her hardened nipples. She felt like depravity itself, leaning so protectively over her innocent, sleeping sister while Bjorn, her lord and master, took her from behind and Myria was enjoying it. ENJOYING IT. Each stroke he made went deeper. He wasn’t in any hurry it seemed.

His tongue left off its tormenting presence against her ear. If she had thought that tormenting, it wasn’t until his lips fastened against her neck, that the torment flared ever higher. The throbbing in her womb, the very core of her, grew tremendous. She was making small whimpering sounds and didn’t even know it.

"You're a naughty elf, aren't you? You've wanted your Master's cock all along, secretly playing with yourself in the bathtub. How does it feel now that I'm buried like this inside you. I bet you want me to force it in you harder, don't you? Faster? Until you feel me fill you completely up to your hot little core? Even though you know its so dangerous, it feels so good, doesn't it?"

Her head lowered as her hair hid her flaming cheeks from view. He knew! He had known she was playing with herself in the tub. Her hair draped slightly over Syl’s shoulder.

Please don’t let her wake up. Please. Please. Please.

She couldn’t bear the thought of her sister seeing her like this. Subjugated by a male. A human male. Sylvannia stirred in her sleep. Myria held her breath as Syl murmured in her sleep, shifted a little but didn’t waken. Myria should have been mortified. Only she wasn’t. Her body and soul were on fire. Writhing in the flames of need and desire, he stoked.

YES. By Danu. She hd wanted his cock. She had been wanting to feel him slipping in and out of her body just as he was doing now. Much to her shame, he felt good riding in her. Her hips flagrantly rocked back and forth along his thick length. Myria wouldn’t be satisfied until his entire length was pushing into her, filling her. She could feel the quivering in her belly start, felt it expand to radiate throughout her pussy. Her head lowered further, pushing her hips up, unwittingly offering more of herself up to him. She desperately needed the release from this mating fever. Even if he stopped now and left her to seek release on her own, she doubted she could find it. Myria knew she would only find more torment no matter how much she rubbed or used her own fingers. No, this was a release only he could grant her.

Below her, Sylvannia stirred. Her amethyst colored eyes blinked a few times, as if trying to shake the sleep from her brain.

“Myria?” Her voice was cautious, confusion lacing her tone. She stared up at her older sister’s bent head for a long moment before her eyes went wide. She had only now noticed the human male behind Myria. Those mauve colored eyes so like her older sister’s, widened as her brain registered what was going on above her. Syl scrambled out from under her sister, moving backwards away from the pair, as fast as her feet and hands could scoot her.

“Myria!” Syl’s eyes went from her sister’s down swept head to the very male human behind her. A man who was obviously fucking her older sister, “How could you? He’s human!”

For all her short protestations, Sylvannia couldn’t drag her eyes away from the pair. Was she appalled? She was. While watching her sister in thrall to a male human, she was aggrieved, appalled and disgusted at the sight, yet…… strangely….. she couldn’t look away from the primal mating.

 

[dryfter]

"Cum for me. Now."

He had witnessed everything as it had unfolded. Every whimper that struggled its way from between his elf's lips, echoing from the depths of her being. Every soft stirring of her blonde, attractive sister as she fought her way back towards consciousness.

It was only fitting then, that the question the girl had half shrieked in horror upon waking be answered properly, and by her own flesh and blood. He himself was nowhere near completion, yet he felt every little shudder and quake Myria fought so hard against. It was a losing battle.....and they both knew it.

Bjorn kept his eyes on the new elf as the one impaled on his cock didn't hesitate to follow such a tempting order. The girl hadn't looked away, not once....and there was still the unmistakable scent about her as well. She'd had some fun recently too.....

"What did I tell you would happen if she woke up, Myria? Your lusty panting and whining woke her. Tell her yourself."

He could taste her fear as clearly as he could her lust. He wasn't forcing himself in and out of her tight elven pussy. Myria was actively fucking herself back onto him, twisting her hips and arching, trying to bring him deeper within her tight confines and then rippling, sucking hard with her body in every attempt to please him as he ravaged her. It was a hell of an instinct for a woman who had been a virgin none too long ago.

"You've been a naughty elf recently as well, haven't you? You smell of sex....hot, sweaty sex....the kind that culminates in breathy gasps of air and sharp cries that scare the woodland birds."

He focused on the blonde, even as he worked in and out of Myria unfazed as she came out of her climax. He wasn't done with her after all. Grinning....one of the hands that even now still tormented her taut nipples dipped lower. He could almost swear her heard a gasp as it came to rest upon her slick mound. Wet enough that her sister couldn't help but see should she care to look at where he had her impaled, Bjorn gently prodded the older sister's flushed hood, looking for what he knew already stood prominently.

"What do you think? Will Myria look good all swollen with your niece or nephew? Will she break I wonder? I can tell you how much she fears it."

Gently he teased, his fingertips as fiery as his words. Circling her rigid clit, he even dared to pluck softly at it, tugging the fleshy nub until she shivered and no doubt tried to bite back another cry.

"This is what she was trying to save you from. Why you so desperately had to run from this place, even though she knew she would be punished for not delivering you directly to me for a proper mating."

The reactions of this girl were delicious too! Bjorn had no idea how drunk one could get off the feeling of power he had just now, but he cared little at the moment as he cocked his head and shot Sylvannia a quirky smile.

"So would you like to be taken hard, rough, and screaming....like your sister? Or would you perhaps care to begin disrobing on your own? Either way, you're not leaving this cabin without my permission ever again."

Bjorn leaned forward, kissing along one narrow bladed shoulder, finally giving Myria what he knew she wanted now....craved. His speed picked up until he was forcing the air from her lungs with each powerful thrust, the head of his cock nudging her innermost gates every so often. However, though his kiss was for Myria, his look was meant purely for Sylvannia.....

"Besides.....does it look like she is suffering? Did your previous lover make you cry out like this? Oh wait....Myria hasn't cried out yet, has she? I did command her to remain silent. Perhaps there is hope for her yet...but is there hope for your womb, dear Myria?"

 

[DarkWarrioress]

"Cum for me. Now."

It wasn't a request. It wasn’t a flat statement. Nor was it a permission. It was a command. It wasn’t a conscious effort on her part to obey, but obey she did. Her internal channel closed around him, rippling muscles tightened against the firm, rigid flesh deeply and fully embedded inside her. Lost as she was to the exploding inferno set loose and spreading rapidly throughout her body, she didn’t hear his words, to her or to Syl. She squirmed and twisted on his cock, trying her best to bury him as deeply as her body would allow for.

"You've been a naughty elf recently as well, haven't you? You smell of sex....hot, sweaty sex....the kind that culminates in breathy gasps of air and sharp cries that scare the woodland birds.

Syl’s eyes flew to his face. How did he….. did she still smell of sex with the dryad? Thoughts of the dryad and what they had done to each other made her tingle between her thighs. She pressed them together. Heliotrope orbs meandered down from his face, watching, almost hypnotized, as male hips pressed and retreated behind Myria. Over and over again.

What do you think? Will Myria look good all swollen with your niece or nephew? Will she break I wonder? I can tell you how much she fears it."

Sylvannia’s eyes hadn’t retreated from the mating couple. Her older sister! The one that would rather die than have a human’s sperm breed her. The same sister who was ironically cumming on his cock even as his eyes were glued on her, Sylvannia. Her own came back to his face. She couldn’t look away. She just couldn’t. Her sister’s face, from the glimpses she caught, was flushed. Her hips shoved wantonly back against his, grinding him into her body.

She already knew of Myria’s fears. Her sister had been vocal about them often enough. How had Myria fallen to this? Sylvannia’s eyes dropped, following the course of the male’s hand between Myria’s thighs. She knew what his fingers were doing. She had experienced it often enough herself.

Myria’s body was coming down off the high of her orgasm when his fingers slipped around her body, unerringly finding her swollen, sensitive clit. He had one hand on her breast, still twisting, pulling and rolling her nipple. Myria was slick between her legs with the evidence of her forceful orgasm. His fingers had no problem coaxing her swollen nub from its hiding place, not that it had been hiding at all. Fingers, slick with her juices, circled her clit, plucking at it. Strangled sounds emitted from Myria’s throat. Sounds she desperately tried to quell, to no avail.

"This is what she was trying to save you from. Why you so desperately had to run from this place, even though she knew she would be punished for not delivering you directly to me for a proper mating."

Sylvannia involuntarily cried out in despair. Myria had been trying to save her from this? From this male? Oh why, oh why, hadn’t she awakened? Why had she fallen into slumber to begin with?

"So would you like to be taken hard, rough, and screaming....like your sister? Or would you perhaps care to begin disrobing on your own? Either way, you're not leaving this cabin without my permission ever again."

Syl’s eyes widened as his words sunk into her skull and registered in her brain. He was going to take her too? She slithered further away from him. From them. Her back found the open closet door, though she didn’t realize it was a closet. The door swung closed, causing Syl to topple backwards onto her back. She righted herself quickly enough. Her eyes were frantic. Was there another way out of here? Could she make it to the door she had stumbled through before he caught her?

The human leaned in to kiss along Myria’s shoulder. His hips now slapping against her buttocks. The sound of flurried flesh smacking against each other and the heated, rapid breathing of three people filled the small cabin. Myria looked like a besotted cat in the throes of her heat, offering up her body to him. He looked to Sylvannia.

"Besides.....does it look like she is suffering? Did your previous lover make you cry out like this? Oh wait....Myria hasn't cried out yet, has she? I did command her to remain silent. Perhaps there is hope for her yet...but is there hope for your womb, dear Myria?"

Sylvannia glanced at her sister who was now on her hands and knees, her body being rocked to and fro by the male behind her. Myria lifted her head, her eyes speaking volumes. Regret. Apology. Chagrin. Desire. Fervor. Desperate need. So much contained in those amethyst eyes so like Sylvannia’s own. Syl’s hand shifted slightly on the floor. It encountered something cold and hard. A quick glance down showed a sword, just at the ends of her fingertips. Her fingers stretched, closing around the hilt, pulling it closer to her body. Her head turned sharply toward the mating couple. The male was earnestly pumping himself into Myria’s body, bent on planting his seed in her womb. Sylvannia came to her feet swiftly, running toward them, the sword swinging up over her head, intent on bringing it down upon his.

There was the suddenness of steel meeting steel forcefully. The ringing sound of it in the silent confines of the cabin as the sword flew out of Sylvannia’s hand, flying across the room to lie on the bare floor, spinning harmlessly in circles. The look of incredulous disbelief on Sylvannia’s face as the tip of Myria’s sword pressed into the hollow at the base of Syl’s throat, never wavering. Myria’s eyes were devoid of any emotion now. Her face was impassive as they stood facing off. Sylvannia knew better than to move. Her sister was a trained swordswoman. She just never thought, not in a million and one years, that she would find herself at the end of Myria’s sword.

Myria’s chest rose and fell steadily. Her body was still flush from Bjorn’s taking of her. Her sword arm was unwavering. She wanted nothing more than to fall on her hands and knees again, presenting herself to her master for his continued taking, but Sylvannia had threatened him bodily and this she could not allow. Sister or no sister. No one was allowed to harm her master. Not while she breathed.

 

[dryfter]

He had been expecting her to bolt at some point, and so when she did it concerned him little. That little mindset changed as rapidly as it took the new elf to close fingers upon Myria's discarded sword. By the time she was charging back in his direction, crying out some strangled version of an elven warcry, Bjorn was already retreating slightly....his deeply seated length slipping wetly from Myria's eager body as he fumbled for his own blade. Where had he set it, he had held it just a minute ago?!

For her part, there wasn't the slightest of moans or squeaks from his elven lover when his retreat was noticed. Yet the barbarian youth had little time to think on such a lack of reaction, not as his ears pulsed sharply in affront at the sound of steel screaming along elven steel.

For a long moment he just stood there, collecting himself. Dumbly, Bjorn realized that the new arrival's blade had flown across the room, its sharp clatter only further offending Bjorn's aural senses. Yet he was far too interested in the expression on the two sister's faces to really care.

Myria was a mask of furious indignation. Truly, he had never seen such a look from her, not even when he had confronted the dryad earlier. This had been more than a simply perceived threat. This had been real. He had actually been put in danger and not just a recipient of bland threats. The difference was unmistakable. Bjorn couldn't help but wonder if his pet even realized that as tense as she was right now.....every sexy, battle hardened muscle stood out from her toned, lean body. This was his warrioress. This was the reason he had deigned to not make her carry his lineage. The reason why he had instilled fear of that very thought in her, even though he suspected it was what a part of her truly wanted right now.

Her sister on the other hand, was the picture of stark terror and disbelief. Though no sound other than labored breathing escaped either one of them for the moment, Myria's much heavier than the blonde's given the strenuous activities that had been interrupted. The more he watched, the more the human wondered if the woman was going to beg for her life or just break down crying. Surely she had to know that now her fate was sealed. Her own sister had been conquered by him, served him unwaveringly.Though if she did indeed shed tears, Bjorn had to wonder if it was for fear of her own future......or pity from what her sister had become.

"Rough it is, I see."

The murmured words were all it took to finally get her to tear her tearful gaze from Myria and back to him.

"Do not lower your swordpoint."

The tip of the blade hovered dangerously at this one's throat, and not once did it waver. For a moment, Bjorn had the terrible thought......would Myria kill her own sister.....if he commanded it? Of course, he would never do so.....but the thought would nag him for days to come, disturbing his dreams even when enfolded by the two elves he would come to possess.

Her dress was ragged. She had been traveling through the woods for some time now, and her travels had not been kind to her. Still, there was enough cloth there to cover her decency. That was....until Bjorn reached for her, easily rending the elf woman's tattered blouse and spilling her breasts into the warm cabin air.

They were large, supple....and one could tell at a glance that they were completely devoid of the trim pertness Myria displayed. Slightly larger, more plump, and completely gravity defying.....Bjorn watched the expected reaction, wondering if she even dared move with her sister watching like a predator bird from the other end of her deadly steel.

"You don't want your sister soiled by me, is that it? You're too late, she serves me completely now. Her devotion grows with each pleasure I show her. Just as you will as well."

He finally risked a glance over at his elven bodyguard, his smile hinting at the pleasure he felt towards her.

"Make sure she doesn't escape Myria. I think its time we heal this rift between sisters, don't you? She'll see things your way by dawn's light."

-------------------------------------------------------

"You let her go inside?!"

The voice was hissed, and more than a little angry. The scout frowned, but shrugged silently.

"I was ordered to not be detected under any circumstance. To yell out a warning to an elf maiden I don't even know would most certainly go against my orders, yes?"

The other ranger had been tailing the blonde for some time now, and was clearly agitated, her emerald gaze returning often to the cabin's door. Even from here, the sounds of mating were unmistakable, yet neither of them showed arousal of any kind by the sound.....merely disgust.

"This will be reported to the chieftess. She must know that the human now has two elves under his thrall. She will order his execution for sure now, never mind the fact this one behaves differently from the rest of his kin."

The guard merely nodded again, nonplussed. Curious, the girl finally spoke, turning her own smoky eyes onto her counterpart.

"Its true she's not a ranger, but why did this newcomer seem to have such a hard time in our woods? I thought most of our sisters knew their woodlore better than what she displayed?"

A sad chuckle was all she got as an answer for long minutes before words finally replaced the sound.

"As near as I can tell, she's a lady of good breeding. Probably hasn't worked a day in her life, the only sweat she's used to exhibiting is when she's with a lover. Which by the way, was quite recently. It was extremely hard to not take care of my own urges, watching Liandra dote on another lover."

Thought brought about a reaction, a soft shiver.

"Oh, that's right....she had you once too, didn't see, Yuri? It's unlikely she'll be seen again for the next seven years. She's found another plaything at the moment. The companion of the elf I had been tracking."

As another loud cry reverberated from the cabin to the surrounding woods.....neither woman had any problems imagining just what that implicated.

 

[DarkWarrioress]

Red. Hot. Angry. Aroused. Frustrated. And at the moment, deadly.

Just twitch, bitch. I dare you.

There was nothing in Myria’s eyes that showed she even knew the elf at the end of her sword. That this elf was her sister. Such was the haze Myria was currently in. Her chest rose and fell, rapidly and deeply. Her eyes were solely focused on the female before her. Oddly, she was also aware of her master stepping around her, walking behind the elf she held at bay with her sword tip. Her eyes narrowed only slightly as he reached around the captive’s body, watched as fingers grasped the flimsy material that covered the elven one’s chest and easily tore it from her body, leaving her breasts to now bear the cold. Myria’s cold and impassive eyes flickered downward. Unlike her own, this one’s breasts were plump, full, yet still pert. The corner of Myria’s lips turned up derisively. How long would they stay that way? Not long if she bore Master’s whelps. They would feed from her tits. He would, no doubt, breed her often. Amethyst eyes flickered back up to meet ones like her own. From across the expanse of the sword Myria could read fear and disgust in the other one’s eyes.

“What? Have no liking for my master, bitch? You should have thought about that before you tried to kill him. Your tune will change soon enough.”

“MYRIA!” Sylvannia gasped out in shock, “You wouldn’t let him…. You couldn’t possibly just stand there and let him rape me, could you? I’m your sister!”

Sylvannia’s voice had sunk to a mere whisper after her first outburst of her sister’s name. Something was horribly wrong with Myria. This wasn’t her sister, not the one who had been leaning so protectively over her earlier. Myria had always looked after her. Protected her. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing now.

Myria’s eyes wandered over her sister’s form dispassionately.

“Better he plant his seed in your womb than mine. You’ll never try to kill him again after that.”

Myria’s voice was cold, hues of her contained anger and frustration penetrated it. She could cheerfully kill the wench at this very moment. Her master had given her one orgasm but it had sated little, such was the depth of her need. This one had interfered with another. Some part of Myria wanted to crawl into a little ball and weep. Some other part wanted to beg him to tie the wench up so they could continue. Instead, she ground her teeth, the muscles in her jaw, pulsed. She was all protectress wrapped up in a ball of sensual need.

“Myria, please….”

Sylvannia’s eyes pleaded with her sister.

Don’t let him do this to me. I am your baby sister.

The tip of the sword wavered the briefest of moments then steadied again.

“Master? Do you wish her bound?”

Even as the words left her mouth, Myria’s mind was working. There was little to bind the elf to. Perhaps the tatters of the elf’s shirt could be used, arms spread and bound each to a leg of the tub. That seemed to be the only possibility available. Myria’s legs shifted slightly. Her ache throbbed. It radiated from between her thighs and filled her belly. Master seemed pleased with her. Perhaps once the elf was bound they could continue where they had been interrupted by this one attacking him, forcing Myria to move and defend. She knew he was still rock hard, his cock jutting out from his body, pulsing. Just the thought of it made her throb deeper and stronger. Her fingers tightened around the grip of her sword. Despite her body’s wantings, Myria stood resolute in her duty.

There was no getting through to Myria, Sylvannia realized. The person confronting her had little resemblance to her sister. Myria was completely in thrall to the human male. Syl could feel the heat of the human’s body behind her and sensed, rather than felt, at the moment, the hardness that resided between his thighs. Syl didn’t dare move, not one iota. In Myria’s current frame of mind, Syl was a threat and for the first time in her life, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that if she even swayed, Myria would draw blood. Her eyes left Myria’s face and drifted down her sister’s naked body, coming to rest on the woman’s flat stomach. Did Myria house this human’s child in her womb even now? Was that why Myria did his bidding? Was it possible? No. Wait. Something the human had said… what was it again? Something about Myria’s womb. The male hadn’t bred her. Not yet. Had they struck some kind of deal? Myria, she knew, would do anything to avoid becoming pregnant by a human male. So, what was it? Was she to capture and deliver female elves to the human to breed? Would her sister stoop to that?

The look in Myria’s eyes said she would.

 

[dryfter]

“What? Have no liking for my master, bitch? You should have thought about that before you tried to kill him. Your tune will change soon enough.”

Hearing those words spill out of the elven warrioress saucy little throat, any friction at all would have brought Bjorn to climax right there. She had completely turned on her own sister, much to his delight and surprise. From the looks of things, she had already reconciled her taking as well. He had no doubt that it was to prevent the younger elf from ever being a threat to him ever again....and that suited Bjorn just fine, especially now with his palms full of elven titflesh.

“Better he plant his seed in your womb than mine. You’ll never try to kill him again after that.”

And just like that, his suspicions were confirmed. He could feel the elf beneath his touch recoil against him slightly, only to freeze as she no doubt felt herself fetch up against his maleness.

"There won't be a need to bind her, Myria. We both know she's not going anywhere. It won't be long before she loses her desire to run as well."

Again, that delightful shiver. She knew exactly what he meant, and yet she was caught between two impossibilities. A part of him wondered just how high her panic could spiral. Certainly hope was looking rather bleak at the moment.

"What I would like you to do, is finish undressing her if you would. No need to move, you can use the tip of your sword. Just be careful not to scar her unless she deserves it."

He left the definition of "deserves" up to her. It was the least he could do for providing him with such amusement, such a heightening of sexual tension that he could barely restrain himself from throwing this fresh woman onto the hard cabin floor and making her wail in despair as he staked his claim upon her.

"Do you get it now? Myria is mine. Yes, she's still your sister, but now her bond with me is greater than it ever was with you. She doesn't need to be lost to you forever though. The two of you will be rejoined for a very long time....."

Bjorn whispered his poison into her slanted ears even as they both could plainly hear the clean cut of cloth being sheared away. From where he stood hovering behind her, the barbarian youth openly admired the lush, curvy figure of Myria's sister....never hesitating to touch, to run his hand over her perfect round ass, squeezing gently.

"You're not going to make her cut you, are you? Have you ever been cut before? Myria seems angry enough at you to do it. I've never seen her in such a state...."

He grinned, keeping his soon to be new pet on edge. Myria's deft strokes were perfection....as long as her sister remained absolutely still. He half wondered if she was even breathing right now.

"You can faint if you want. I won't guarantee what position you'll be in when you wake though. It seems your sister would like to see you bred."

He dared to lean forward then, kissing softly along her trembling throat even as his hand came down hard on her supple ass, reddening the pale flesh with a sharp strike that even got Myria's attention.

"Get down, on the floor, right now. On your back like a good little whore. Refuse, and I'll let you enjoy the sight of your sister binding you and making you obey."

He patiently waited to see what she chose to do, even as he crooked a finger at his pet, beckoning her closer. The moment she drew near, he pulled her close, drawing a body he knew to be hungry tight against him.....claiming her lips in the first truly possessive kiss he had shared with her, even as a finger traced her lusty sex. A split second later and it had slipped inside her, stirring up her moist heat and keeping her desire for him fresh and needy.

"You understand the importance of binding her? I will not have her escape while I'm finishing what I started with you. Best to make sure she no longer desires escape."

---------------------------------------------------------------

She fled, the branches whipping past her, yet agile enough that none of them so much as brushed against her. From tree to tree she moved, only the occasional forest fae even able to detect her passing.

"Send this message to my cheiftess, the human is to be feared. He is not sated with his one elf and another has fallen victim to him. Let all in the village know of the threat, and let our elders deliver their verdict."

The tiny little cloud of sprites that had passed by curiously to see why their forest friend was in such a hurry nodded solemnly, darting off in the direction of her village far faster than she herself was able. By the time she got there to make the report official, the elves should be in quite an uproar.

Her eyes burned with shame more than the wind of her passing. It was her fault after all. She had fallen so easily to their clever ruse. She should have known that a sister warrior would not take a human captive. Humans were for killing, lest the captors find themselves that captive thralls. She knew this, and yet still had fallen pray to the deception.

However, Yuri had no doubt what the verdict would be once she reached the elders.

The human had to die. Now that her message was sure to be delivered.....

Doeskin clad feet turned as the treetop shadow doubled back once more.....

 

[DarkWarrioress]

"What I would like you to do, is finish undressing her if you would. No need to move, you can use the tip of your sword. Just be careful not to scar her unless she deserves it."

The tip of Myria’s sword abandoned it’s sweet spot and trailed lower. Down between the female’s tits, carefully avoiding contact with his hands, that were spilling over with those tits. A slight twist of her wrist and the blade’s tip was now vertical instead of horizontal. The remnants of her tunic lay about her hips. The blade’s end slid effortlessly under it and gave a small vicious tug. Sylvannia softly gasped again.

“Myria. Don’t. Please. I beg you.”

Her plea fell on deaf ears. The sword dipped lower, across the slight swell of Sylvannia’s otherwise flat stomach, to the waistband of her trews. Intent on her mission, she had missed how Sylvannia had backed up slightly then stilled. The blade moved, sliding along the inside of Syl’s thigh. Another slight twist of Myria’s wrist and the very edge of the sword, near the tip, traveled lightly down her sister’s leg. It traveled upward on the other leg, hovering for a moment at the apex of her thigh, before traveling down the inner thigh much as it had on the other side. One would think nothing had been done, but otherwise was about to be proven shortly. Myria’s sword tip found the lacings at the front of Sylvannia’s trews and instantly sliced through them.

For a proverbial moment, she glanced up, noting that her master stood behind Sylvannia, whose eyes were huge with fright. Her hands were clenching at Bjorn’s forearms as if she detested his touch, his ability to touch her so intimately. For his part, his face was partly hidden behind Sylvannia. His whispers filled both their ears and for a breath of time, Myria’s eyes narrowed as she watched him knead her sister’s breasts. No doubt, his cock was rubbing against her ass cheeks as well. Myria couldn’t have anyone trying to kill her master and the only logical conclusion there was, was for him to bind Sylvannia to him. This, too, served two things for Myria. One, she would never have to worry about Sylvannia trying to kill him again. Two, she wouldn’t have to worry about conceiving her master’s child. Sylvannia could do it. Would do it, by the time he was done with her and when she became with child, well, there were other ways to enjoy what they shared without having to worry about becoming pregnant by him.

Her sword made short of getting Sylvannia’s pants stripped from her hips and as the material fell, it became apparent what Myria had done earlier. The material simply parted away from pale elven thighs and fell, discarded, to the floor.

The sound of flesh sharply meeting flesh startled Myria. Her eyes shot across Sylvannia’s shoulder. Master had smacked Syl’s backside, startling her as well. The sting that filled Syl’s ass cheeks caused her eyes to tear up. No one. NO ONE had ever dared to treat her that way. She looked accusingly at Myria with another look of How could you let this happen? It was too late. Myria’s heart was hardened. Syl had tried to kill her master. Whatever happened to the bitch now, she had coming. Sylvannia twisted against Bjorn’s hands, trying to free herself. That soon stopped as she felt the flat side of Myria’s sword pressed between her thighs and against her pussy. Syl froze. Fear clearly imprinted in the depth of her eyes.

"Get down, on the floor, right now. On your back like a good little whore. Refuse, and I'll let you enjoy the sight of your sister binding you and making you obey."

This he spoke to Sylvannia and crooked a finger at Myria. The elf’s sword was withdrawn from where it was resting. Myria skirted around Syl and once within his reach, found herself pulled against her master’s hard body. His lips claimed her own as her heated body was pressed tightly against his. A tiny whimper of need escaped into his mouth. His hand slid low on her body, a finger provocatively tracing her swollen sex. Myria’s hips pushed forward against his finger as it slipped into her wet heat. A mangled sound came from her throat. Neither of them were paying attention to Sylvannia. The latter, stood staring at the pair before she took off running for the door. It mattered not that she was naked. She’d rather die than become a possession of the human male. Myria was already lost. The elf, pressed so intimately against the human, wasn’t her sister. Sylvannia felt suddenly so alone. Unfortunately, she was brought up short from her dash toward the front door by a fierce yank on her hair. Syl yelped in distress. A hand reached back, trying to dislodge whoever had grabbed her. Instead, the hand wound tighter into her locks until the pressure made Syl cry out in distress and drop to her knees.

“Get up.”

It was Myria and there was a low growl in her voice.

“I said, get up bitch or I’m going to yank you to your feet and don’t worry, you’ll be flat on your back in no time.”

Myria, her hand wrapped in Sylvannia’s hair, yanked on it again. With another distressed cry, Sylvannia struggled to her feet.

“Let go of me!”

“Not this time, Sylvannia. You tried to run and you have interrupted us for the last time.”

Myria’s eyes were stormy. Her face, a mask of fury as she half drug Sylvannia toward the tub sitting before the fire, scooping up the remnants of Syl’s tunic as they went. Her sword, she had hastily thrust into Bjorn’s hand when she saw her sister, from the corner of her eye, trying to escape. Myria brought the struggling elf to a jarring halt before the tub. Without a word, her leg shot out sweeping Sylvannia’s legs out from under her. The younger elf went down, landing on her rump. Her eyes shot up to Myria’s, bewildered and disbelieving that her sister would be doing this to her.

“Please. By Danu, Myria. Please don’t tie me up. Save me. I’m your little sister.”

Myria dropped to her knees, straddling her sister and releasing her silken strands as she began to tear strips from what remained of Sylvannia’s tunic.

“Lie down.”

Myria’s tone was emotionless even as Syl continued to stare up at her sister with tear filled eyes.

“Please, Myria…. Don’t do this….” Syl’s voice trailed off in a whisper.

“I said, lie down.”

When the younger woman refused to comply, Myria pushed her to the floor and wrestled with her sister for possession of the younger woman’s arm, it was a losing battle for Sylvannia. The elven warrior began to secure one end of the strip of cloth around Syl’s wrist then moved to secure the other end to one leg of the tub, stretching Syl’s arm to its full extension. Myria repeated the gesture to Syl’s other arm before getting to her feet and staring down at her nude sister, lying on the floor. There was nothing she could do about Sylvannia’s legs, however.

"You understand the importance of binding her? I will not have her escape while I'm finishing what I started with you. Best to make sure she no longer desires escape."

Three things occurred to Myria, then and there. Three very simple thoughts.

One, some part of her wished there was no one else in the cabin but her master and herself. Two, she almost wished she was of the mind to bear his child and third?

She turned to face him, her eyes glittering.

Oh yes, she understood all right.

She understood that he wasn’t finished with her, Myria, yet this night and that made her twitch and throb.

In the most primal fashion.