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The duel I had with Forgeir Dreamseeker was hard, but fast.
He bested me easily, tossing my axe out of my hands with a flick of his blade.
“Again,” I whispered to him as he helped me up from the floor of the tunnel.
We were fighting in the common lands that all races used for their marketing and trading, and we were with friends in the great square-shaped tunnel that slanted out of the cliff face.
“We go again,” I said, and he looked at me, surprised.
Forgeir was a barbarian from the north. He had hair the color of warm mud, and a thick tattooed line of blue that ran under both eyes. He stood probably four feet above me, and his thigh was as thick as my chest. But most striking about Forgeir was the deep scar that ran from his forehead, over his foggy right eye, down to his jawbone. I could only wonder at what beast had caused such a thick wound. Or had it been a man?
“Alright,” he said quietly, then he struck up a fighting stance.
I ran at him, but he dodged, a maneuver I myself still struggled to learn in training sessions. Forgeir was far ahead of me as a warrior, my superior in all things. I landed against the far wall with a thud, not having been able to stop my quick pace. And up behind me he came, his blade flat against my back, his weight pressing me into the warm stone.
“Do ye yield, darkling?”
I paused, then finally nodded. And Forgeir chuckled. And he turned his back to me, waving to our friends that he had won yet again.
I am Drow.
Never turn your back on a Drow you think you have beaten.
My hands were about his neck quicker than he could think, and my legs were pulling his strong arms away from his chest, to tuck the elbows with my heels behind his back. He was powerless, gasping in my grasp. I was weak, but I had him effectively pinioned beneath my small agile body.
I put my dark lips to his helm, in the vicinity of his ear.
“Do ye yield, barbarian?”
The whisper was quick and fervent. I knew I had to give no quarter, allow him to time to rethink this. I had to work on surprise and doubt.
And it worked. He yielded. And I leapt down from his back, backing away, axe in hand and ready for his retaliation.
Forgeir looked at me, and laughed. And the laugh made his one good eye sparkle. His thick lips went up in a smile between his moustache and beard, and I stood straight, staring at him.
“You are a wily one, girl! You’ve so much to learn, but I hope you never forget to be so dominant and determined when it comes to real battle!”
Forgeir laughed more, and then invited me to drink with him that evening.
As was his habit, the barbarian liked to sit before a crisp, crackling fire until sleep overcame him. He would pick the same lonely fireplace every night, situated in the back most part of the tunnel, in the large common room there. The room was huge, just a cavern really. But I was used to caverns, and to me the vaulted ceilings and great stone walled expanse was the norm. Forgeir seemed at ease, too. I could tell he enjoyed being here, near this fire. He did not worry about all the people passing at his back. I watched as he undressed and tossed aside his armor, smirking at me as if he thought I wouldn’t do the same.
I took off the few pieces of banded I wore, and placed them to one side. Soon, I wore nothing but my ebony skin and snowy hair. The shocked look in the barbarian’s eyes told me that he was not used to seeing naked women sitting at his fire. But what was I, if not a dark elf? My body was my temple, and I worshiped it, cared for it, sculpted it as much as I could in this, my youth. I was proud of it, like any good warrior should be. And being raised among trolls and then humans, I did not ever learn modesty. It is not one of the skills you learn at the feet of a good swords master, at least not where I grew up.
Over my shoulder, I glared at the people still passing in the shadows as night began to fall. Would the stream of merchants never end? Would I have to listen to them all night? I wanted to listen to the barbarian, to hear his stories, the tales of a true warrior who had been out in the world. I didn’t want to hear the banter and bargaining of filthy trade.
“You are a very beautiful woman, Ubique,” Forgeir said to me.
His voice was soft, husky, and he was watching me. I looked at him, and noticed how the firelight danced against the silvery edges of the scar on his face. I was fascinated with it, and I could not tear my eyes away.
“Do you like my scar?”
I nodded. I could not speak.
“You may touch it, if you like.”
I could not resist, and so I moved forward. With one dark hand, I reached güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri up to his face. On my knees before him, where he sat, I began to trace the trail that some claw or blade had made on this man’s visage.
“Does it hurt?” I asked.
“When you touch it? No.”
He took my hand in his, pressing it to his face. And he closed his eyes, leaning his cheek into my palm.
“Your touch is so soft, it feels very good, actually.”
I smiled, and took my hand from his. Then I began to trace the scar again, moving closer to him. It was a magnificent wound, I thought. I hoped that one day, I would bear such proof of my skill or courage.
With a fingertip, I traced the silver edges as they flickered orange in the light of the flames.
“It is a very admirable scar. I’m surprised it still has any feeling to it.”
“Only under your touch has it made me respond so…”
I didn’t know what he meant, but he looked me in the eyes, directly. Then he leaned forward. His lips moved to mine as his hand moved to the small of my back. His fingers could span my spine so easily, and he trailed them up and down over my skin.
“You are quite a woman.”
I looked at him, then. And I wasn’t sure what to do next as he pulled me into his lap. I could feel his hardness, his manhood, beneath the red plaid of the skirt barbarians call a kilt.
He leaned me against him, wrapping his arms around me. I could feel the fire’s heat. Or maybe that was his body. Whatever it was, I was feeling dizzy, lightheaded. I will blame the fire.
Forgeir nuzzled my neck with his bearded chin. Then slowly, his mouth moved to my flesh. With great care, his teeth nipped at me, pulling at my skin. I shuddered. It felt very good to have someone giving me this kind of attention. I had not had it like this before.
“You are shaking like a child.”
Slowly, he turned me around until I was looking up into his great face.
“Have you never had a man before?”
I shook my head ‘no’.
He seemed taken aback. He seemed shocked, and he even seemed afraid. All of these things I registered in his one good eye. The depths of that eye were immeasurable; it was a pool of shadows I could not enter into. But his feelings were reflected there as if on the surface of a very dark pond. He was concerned for me.
“I would love to take you, Ubique. I would love to know your body better. But, I am not the same as other men your body is meant for. I am…bigger.”
Was he denying me suddenly, when he had not even asked me for anything?
What ever had just happened?
I didn’t know what to say, or how to react. I knew what he had done to me. He had stirred secret parts of me that others had stirred, in other ways, many times. He was bringing out the beast in me, the secret beast I kept sheltered and hidden in dreams and nightmares. And now he was telling me he would do no more, give me no more of this dark pleasure that his lips dropped on my neck so easily. He would not go further — because of size?
“I can handle anything. I am a warrior, and I am Drow.”
I put my chin up, determinedly, and kissed him. I kissed him hard, showing him the fires and the yearnings he had stirred in me. There would be no way he could deny now that I wanted what ever it was he was going to give.
I was not an ignorant fool. I knew what was going on. I knew what would happen. But his manner of saying that he would have to refuse me because I was too small was exactly what he needed to say to make me desire him as much as he obviously desired me.
My hand snaked up his leg, and he gasped, pulling away from my lips as I touched on his manhood. His member jumped in my hand, and a drop of moisture lay in my palm as I followed it and caught it up once more.
“I am every bit the fighter and the warrior you are, or I shall be soon. Whatever you can dish out, I can take.”
The challenge was spoken, and he would not back down. This much I knew.
Men are very predictable, and warriors especially are easily puppetted into doing things they first said they would not.
“So be it,” he whispered.
Before I knew what was going on, Forgeir had flipped me over onto my hands and knees. I could feel the edges of his kilt brushing against the backs of his thighs as he leaned over me.
His breath was hot in my ear.
“If I let you see what I have in store for you, you may not be so brave,” he said to me.
And then, I could feel the broiling tip of him pushing against my folds.
As much as I am a warrior, I am also a woman. The same parts of me are tender as they would be on any new woman. I could feel him pressing against them, güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri against those nether lips I had let no one else ever before enter. I could feel the rounded head of him, dripping with that wetness, as he slid that tip of his manhood up and down the small length of me.
“You are so small,” he whispered, and his voice shook with desire.
His every teasing touch was igniting a new want and need inside me. I pressed myself back against him, half fearing he would want to give up once he saw how large he was next to my small and inexperienced body. And I would hate for him to stop now.
Suddenly, he took hold of both of my hips in his hands. His grip was so tight; I knew what would come next. He meant to hold me still, incase I tried to get away.
I would not try that, I knew. I wanted this.
With all the merchants around us, all ignorant of what we two did, he entered me thus. He thrust himself deep into me, as deep as he could. And it is a wonder I lived through that. His lust for me was so strong, I was surprised my head did not tumble off my neck that first time. I bit my tongue to keep from crying out and drawing attention to us. I knew we must not be the only lovers enjoying the respite of the day in the darkness of the tunnel. But I did not want to share this moment with anyone else.
Slowly, as yet unsatisfied, he withdrew from me. And the ache and the pain that caused, I cannot describe. It was as if he were burying a brand inside me, then slowly withdrawing it while it was still raging hot. I felt every inch of him, and I knew he may very well have been right. He was so long, so huge, I might have been afraid to watch him plunder me with such a tool.
It is only through the grace of being born a magick creature that I live and breath through such things. With magick pulsing in my veins, and as a part of my heredity, such things will never cause me fatal harm. So says the history of the land. And so says the things I have since been a party to.
“You are so small, so tight, like a sheath too small for my blade.”
But again, Forgeir plunged into me, and this time he failed to stifle his own cries of pleasure. He could not stop, now. He had rent me, he had torn the veil of innocence from my eyes, and he had opened me for the first time. First among all men. There was no going back now.
His giant thumbs played over my bottom, teasing the buttocks open. And I know he looked down then, at his sun tanned skin as he dove in and out of my midnight blue privacy. I know it because he moaned, groaned deeply, and could not stop for the life of him. He had to have me, and it was that that pushed me over the edge.
I moved as much as I could, pressing myself back against him, as much as his tight grip would let me. I wanted him deep inside me. I could feel the rim of his member’s mushroom-shaped head as he dragged it viciously out of me. I could feel it pulling at my insides, then I could feel my walls becoming bruised with his ravishing. And I wanted more.
We fought, thus, our bodies smashing against each other. His hands loosened, and he pulled me back against him, helped me grind into him. I tilted my head back, too far gone to care if anyone heard or if anyone saw. I screamed, and I orgasmed like I had never thought possible.
“Gods!” he cried, watching me as I writhed on his member, squirmed against his thighs and groin.
“You are wonderful! Amazing!”
Then he fell over me, holding my hands in his above my head, stretching me out on the warm stone floor of the tunnel.
“Where do you want me to cum?”
I couldn’t answer, I couldn’t speak or think.
“I’m going to cum…”
He didn’t stop thrusting into me, and even though my own climax was lost in his painful crushing movements, the pleasure welling in him was causing me to experience new ecstasy. This was something I had never felt before, a man caught so desperately in the throes of passion he can’t stop for anything.
And he screamed. And he roared against my neck, biting into my shoulders. I howled in response, and I felt him filling me as never before. Great warmth spilled out of him, washing up against my innermost sanctum. He was inside me, pushed in as deep as he could go. Still pushing, still pulsing, still pouring into me.
As I lay beneath him, panting, exhausted, lost in wonderment, I thought many things.
I thought of how wonderful it was to know a man. I thought of the amazing intimacy two people could share. I thought of the person to whom I had given this first time to. And I thought of how it had come to be, and what would happen next.
Slowly, Forgeir rolled off of me, flopping güvenilir bahis şirketleri to his back and laying next to me. I did not look at him. I stared instead at the fire. The flames crackled on and on, no matter who lay with whom here in the tunnel. They did not care, and did not stop.
It occurred to me then that it was not a bad thing to be with someone who was not of the same race as myself. I thought of the great pleasure I had felt, both at my own release, and at his. And I wondered how it was to be with others. There were so many out there that had different bodies, different mannerisms. Would it be the same with them? Would I enjoy them as much as I enjoyed this barbarian? Or was he unique? Would others bore me, and would I always want this one?
I thought of my little cousin, Moonface, back in the city we called home. I thought of how prim and proper she was. And I thought of how much she deserved joy and pleasure.
Then, I decided.
I would arrange a marriage for her. She was a beautiful and blooming dark flower, caught up in the nexus that is Drow politics. I would free her from that, and arrange a marriage with this man that I had just given my virginity to.
It was the best thing to do, in my eyes!
He had taken from me a gift, and I had to repay him for what he had shown me. And my little cousin deserved this kind of pleasure much more than I did.
I turned my head, looking at this barbarian. And he was looking at me, both our cheeks pressed to the stone floor. Our eyes met, and we blinked at each other in wonder at what we had just shared.
I would have him marry my cousin.
One of my downfalls, from that day forward, was my weakness to my own lust. It did not rule me. But I did indulge it as often as I could. And with Forgeir, it was often.
It didn’t occur to me I should not bed down with the man my cousin was to marry. It did not occur to me to marry him myself. I knew he adored me, and I felt the same for him. But I felt we had a respect between us. We wished to stay so, with each other, because we were well matched. But I didn’t expect to marry, ever. And talk of children always fizzled out. I didn’t have plans for any.
Forgeir taught me so many things. He taught me how to truly wield a large weapon. My axe was the size of my full height, and it was not a common weapon for a dark elf. He taught me the value of a shield, and when to use it. Most were too big for me to carry at the same time as my axe, so I chose to avoid shields.
He also taught me about greed and envy.
He liked my axe, and he sought one for himself, to no avail. He didn’t approve that an unskilled warrior such as I had something he could probably use better.
With his fingers twined in my hair, he told me such once as he stood over me on a bed in his summer house.
“You don’t deserve it!” he hissed as he placed his member against my lips.
“Just try to take it from me — you will not live the night through…”
I could not turn my face away from his manhood, his hands were too tight in my long white hair.
We came here often to have our little battles of words and bodies. This was his special secret home. The arrangement to marry my cousin had failed, and instead, Forgeir was going to take his own wife, a bloody lightdweller. I knew she did not please him as I did. He could not be so rough with her, so passionate.
His fingers tightened in my hair, and he forced my mouth open at last, pushing himself inside.
And he groaned, and became weak to me. I clawed at his thighs, dragging my nails up the backs of his legs and then down the front. I tugged and pulled at his privacy, cupping the loose flesh in my hands. He was like a slave when he got like this, when he finally gave in to the pleasure I could give.
I pulled him down to the bed, twisting him until I was above him, and he lay on his back in the darkness of the small room. And I drank him, then, and made him mine for but the briefest of moments.
Out in the world, we were but warriors, friends, dueling companions. He hunted in lands I could not yet travel to. He learned quickly, and learned more than I sought to learn. I merely wanted to taste the world, in all ways. He wanted to own it, I thought.
Inside this little house, we were only two people. Warriors still, constantly fighting with words, or entangling our bodies around each other anxiously and angrily. There were no servants to gossip about what nasty pleasures we indulged in, only silent enchanted beings who cleaned up after us. The fire was always stoked, always roaring. The heat was always there.
It was with sadness that one day, he handed me the key to the house, and turned away from me, never to return, I thought. I didn’t realize my heart could break for him. But when he walked away in the sunset, it did.
The house was mine, utterly and completely. The invisible servants obeyed my command. I owned the house now; I was now its true mistress. But I was Forgeir’s mistress no more.
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