9: Reylana

[Start from the beginning]

The dwarves had been in Haredil long enough to have carved out their own quarter of the city. Despite having lived in the city all his life, it was an area that Almandar had rarely been to; unlike the elves, dwarves only rarely performed magic, and the close-knit and prudish nature of their culture gave him little other reason to visit. In fact, Lady Tarissa was probably more familiar with the district than he was, because of their quality armourers. And there was Dolrim, of course.

Looking around him at the blocky buildings with their small windows, he almost wondered why he had volunteered to come. But, if they were to obtain plans of the ruins beneath the city, his knowledge of Haredil’s ancient history might help, along with Dolrim’s natural feel for architecture and stonework. Nonetheless, he could not help but feel that the dwarves were a dour people, far from the fun-loving and carefree nature of the elves, or even, to an extent, the gnomes. It was the nature of their culture; they were master-craftsmen, spending all their time in dedicated work to improve their art, leaving no time for gaiety.

Lady Tarissa was leading the way as they walked through the dwarven streets, laid out in a square grid, as regular and monotonous as the buildings around them. As a paladin, she probably approved of the dwarves’ dedication, and even Almandar had to admit that they were an honourable and courageous people – Dolrim had saved his own life more than once. The previous night, Tarissa had invited round some friends of hers from the Temple of Pardror for a pleasant evening of food and conversation out in the courtyard. They had not discussed the apparent threat to the city, but the Temple were potential allies if ever they needed them. Calleslyn had brought a friend too, by the name of Messandra, but he knew enough about women to tell that she was not attracted to him.

Of more immediate interest, however, at least from Almandar’s point of view, the young elven squire from the Temple had been very pretty, even attired in the plain white of her order. It was a pity that, as a woman taking her first steps on the path to paladin-hood, she had resisted his attempts to flirt with her. At least she had not looked offended, and the hope of one day ending up between the sheets with her was not, he thought, entirely forlorn.

Not that there was any chance of that here, he reflected. Even were dwarven women not so prudish, they were hardly his image of an ideal bed partner.

Their destination, when they arrived, was, he had to admit, rather different than the bland buildings around it. It was higher, for one thing, with doors of conveniently human height. Ornate buttresses flanked its walls, with arched windows of stained glass depicting images of castles and towers, anvils and hammers. A coat-of-arms stood above the main entrance, carved into stone with exquisite care. When the dwarves wanted to show off their skill, they most certainly could.

For this was the Masons’ Guild of Haredil, a profession dominated by dwarves, although also with a few gnomes and humans. Here, they hoped to find the answers they sought, with the assistance of some of Dolrim’s contacts.

The dwarven warrior, Almandar knew, was not native to the city, having come from the mountains to the south. He had come here in search of fortune, and, as part of the band of adventurers, had, by and large, found it. But even so, he had made some links with the locals, despite their different clan ancestries – apparently an important aspect of dwarven culture, so far as he understood it.

The three of them walked up the steps and through the open doors into the lobby. The building had clearly been constructed with humans in mind, but it showed an unmistakable dwarven ambience. The floor of the lobby was polished marble, lined by columns rising up to an ornate cavern-like roof. Stone carvings lined the walls, showing the various stages of construction of a great building, and the banisters of the stairway to the upper story were plated with shining metal.

A dwarf wearing some sort of grey livery approached the group, and spoke briefly with Dolrim, before disappearing into the building. The trio waited politely, looking around at the masons’ art on display, until the liveried dwarf returned with someone else and took up his station beside the door again.

The newcomer was another dwarf, obviously a fairly young man, with thick brown hair and a relatively short beard. He was dressed in solid earthen tones, with the heavy boots favoured by his race and a few gold and silver rings on his fingers. Evidently, he was a prosperous craftsman, although probably too young to have his own business as yet.

“Dolrim!” he said, formally shaking the warrior’s hand, “it is good to see you again. You must introduce me to your companions.”

“Olthen, this are my companions; Lady Tarissa, and Almandar, a magician. Tarissa, Almandar, this is Olthen, a journeyman mason of the Clan of Olain.” The half-elf could not help but notice the formality of the phrasing, although it was not overly long and flowery. There might be protocol here, but at least they were not drowning in it. “We have a business matter to discuss, some information you may have that might help us.”

“Of course,” replied the younger dwarf, “my father and I were just conducting a business deal of our own, but it is nearly complete, and you are welcome to join us. Then we can talk about your own matter.” He smiled, clearly quite a friendly and open sort for his race, and led the way towards the door he had emerged from.

Beyond the door was a corridor with several rooms off it, apparently quiet meeting rooms for masons and their clients. They entered one of the rooms, which, like the rest of the building, had bare stone walls carved with friezes, rather than tapestries or wooden panelling. There were several chairs, some suitable for humans, and others for dwarves, and a long table with a few parchments on it. A stained glass window with a picture of bridge allowed plentiful light into the room.

At one side of the table, facing away from the window, was an older dwarf, his hair greying, with a long braided beard and a thick silver armband and bejewelled belt buckle indicating his high status. Skipping over another dwarf, Almandar’s eyes were immediately drawn to the third person in the room, evidently the mason’s client.

She looked to be about thirty years of age, a human woman in a long dress of dark blue and green. She was, he guessed, of slightly above average human height, which made her tower over the dwarves in the room. She had long sandy-blonde hair, tied back in a pony-tail that reached half way down her back, and a slender face with red lips and blue eyes. Her skin was pale and soft-looking, with a few scattered pale freckles on her cheekbones. She was bending over the table as he arrived, collecting some of the parchments, although the high cut of her dress afforded him a view of no more than the outline of her breasts and the curve of her hips. She looked up as they arrived, her glance apparently no more than simple curiosity.

“Greetings,” said the older dwarf, standing stiffly, “I am Tharn ak Olain, master mason and architect. This,” he indicated the remaining dwarf, “is my daughter Ostrid, and this is the merchant Relayna, with whom we have business.”

Dolrim introduced his companions a second time, and then Tarissa stood forward, shaking Tharn’s hand briefly, and maintaining her own formal pose. “We are adventurers, master mason, who recover the lost treasures of hidden catacombs. We request your assistance on a matter of architectural knowledge, and bow to your expertise.”

Almandar thought it was all a little overblown, but Tharn seemed impressed, the correct formalities having apparently been observed. “Please join us,” he said, indicating the chairs on the far side of the table.

At the mention of adventurers, Relayna’s eyes seemed to widen a little, and she looked the group over, as if curious, her eyes resting on Dolrim, and then on the half-elf himself. He fancied that they stayed there a little longer than was necessary, and she seemed a little flushed. Perhaps there was something to be gained by this visit, beyond a little information, after all…

“There is…” Relayna started, pausing slightly as if uncertain what to say, “just something I need to clear up, but I won’t interrupt. You don’t mind if I stay for a moment?” She looked from Tharn to Tarissa, but it was Almandar who responded first.

“Not at all,” he said, “we will not be long.” Tarissa cast him a puzzled glance, until it suddenly dawned on her what his reason must be. Her face twitched a little but she said nothing, looking across at the master mason instead. When he also gave his assent, the human merchant pulled a chair away from the table, and moved it to the far wall, behind the dwarves, where she could see the adventurers, but not appear to be directly part of the discussion.

They all sat down, three of them on each side of the table. Relayna was sitting close to the window, somewhat in shadow, but the half-elf’s eyes flicked to her easily over the heads of the dwarves. Fortunately, their attention seemed to be largely on Tarissa, for he suspected they would not approve of any flirting. Indeed, he was unsure how dwarven courtship worked, although he suspected it took rather a long time.

“We are interested in the past history of the city and its ancient architecture,” began Tarissa, “in particular, the ruins below ground. We were hoping that you might have information on them… as historical curiosities, or to avoid building cellars into them, perhaps?”

“We do have some knowledge, of course,” agreed Tharn, “but this is not information we normally share with outsiders. This is guild information, partly, but also a clan matter… this kind of knowledge is hard won, and not readily given over to our rivals.”

Almandar thought he was being a little evasive. Did they perhaps have some idea of the threat that the subterranean ruins held, or at least an inkling that there might be something bad down there, something they did not anyone disturbing? It was possible, at least, but Tarissa was the negotiator of the group. She and Dolrim together should be able to get what they needed out of the dwarven masons, if anyone could. And so, he found his mind wandering a little, to the obvious subject of the human merchant.

Relayna certainly looked a little flushed. She actually did not appear to be paying too much attention to the conversation, but at first appeared to be deep in thought. She looked over the adventurers again, and the magician was quite confident that she looked aroused now, her eyes widening involuntarily, her hands clasped together, as if to avoid giving away her interest. To Almandar, though, it was quite obvious.

Her eyes rested on his for a moment, and he caught her gaze, before deliberately sweeping them down to admire as much of her body as was visible behind the table. She was slender, with full high breasts and a long neck. It was difficult to tell at this distance, but he thought he saw a few beads of perspiration on her forehead, behind her short fringe of hair. Her eyes were wide and her eyebrows raised, and he felt sure she was evaluating him as much as he was her.

Then she looked to the side, towards Dolrim, perhaps to see if the other two had noticed her interest, but it seemed they had not, for she soon glanced back towards Almandar, her expression now shrewd. He felt confident that she was planning a way for them to be together… he only had to find a way to give her the opportunity, without the dwarves being affronted by what was going on in front of their noses.

Holding his gaze, she parted her lips and ran her tongue around them, giving him a distinct ‘come hither’ look. Now he was confident that he had not misread any of the signs – not, he felt sure, that there ever had been much chance of that, for he could read women well. He smiled at her, hoping that she understood his acquiescence, and turned his attention back to the conversation. It could, after all, be important.

“Under the circumstances…” Tharn was saying, “there are some details we could give you, but not here. Tomorrow night, but Olthen and I must leave for a site before then. Ostrid would have to handle it for you. But you must understand, this is dwarven information, we can give it only to Dolrim. We trust your judgement, my friend,” he added, turning to the warrior, “but it must be your decision how to share this. In giving it to you, we are not breaking any bonds, but it must be to you, and you alone. I trust you understand?”

Before he could answer, Almandar was surprised when Relayna suddenly stood up. “I have realised I must go,” she said, “I am most sorry for the interruption, but in any event, I should not intrude further. If I could have a quick word with Ostrid before I leave, though?”

Tharn looked slightly irritated, but he motioned to his daughter, and she got up and walked over to the far corner, where she whispered with Relayna for a while, beyond the half-elf’s earshot. He had not paid much attention to the dwarven woman until now, for she had not spoken once during the conversation with Tarissa, or, indeed, since he had entered the room.

She looked young, although quite what that meant for a dwarf he was uncertain, and wore a blue-grey dress with a skirt hem that almost trailed on the floor. Her chunky necklace of silver and gold, and the bangle around her left wrist, were both clearly the product of skilled dwarven craftsmanship. She was blond, with her hair in braids, and the pale skin so typical of her race. Had it not been for her stocky build, and thickset limbs, he supposed she might be considered quite attractive, and perhaps dwarven men did think her so.

It occurred to him that Dolrim was going to be alone in a house with her tonight, her family away. Had it been him, and had she been human or elven, he was confident of how that night would have ended. As it was, he could not imagine anything happening at all. Dwarves, he suspected, missed even golden opportunities like that one – which was probably why Tharn did not seem worried by the prospect himself.

He was more concerned that Relayna was about to leave without giving him any means of contacting her again, but then he noticed that whatever she was saying to Ostrid was making the dwarf blush, and glance over to her family – who were fortunately looking the other way at the time, back in conversation with Dolrim. It probably did not take much to make a dwarf blush, and when the merchant handed Ostrid a scrap of parchment, and glanced towards Almandar himself, he was confident of what she had said. Even the dwarven woman, it seemed, was able to interpret the purpose behind the note, and was embarrassed by the very thought of it. In her culture, they just did not do things like that.

Soon, Relayna was gone, closing the door behind her and heading back into the guildhall. Ostrid headed back to the table, the note clutched in a hand behind her back, where the others could not see it, her eyes downcast, and looking even more reserved than before.

Whatever Dolrim had said had apparently met with the older dwarf’s approval, for they were shaking hands, and the conversation was turning to more social matters. The warrior obviously knew the family, and now that business was over, wanted to talk about it. With nothing else to distract him now, Almandar was forced to listen to what seemed to him dreadfully tedious accounts of dwarven clans and their affairs, but he supposed the warrior had little enough chance for conversation with his own kind, and did not begrudge him the opportunity for it.

Eventually, they all got up, the dwarves now seeming friendlier and less formal than they had earlier on. Perhaps they would make useful allies, after all. As they left, Astrid hurriedly pressed the scrap of parchment into his hand, glancing about to make sure she had not been seen. After he had left, he unfolded the note and read it.

It was the address of a house in the human part of the city, with tomorrow’s date.

──◊──

Dolrim reached the master mason’s house some time after sunset. Navigating the ordered streets of the dwarven quarter was so much easier than the winding alleys of the rest of Haredil, reminding him somewhat of the great subterranean city of his homeland. It had not surprised him that Tharn had agreed to hand over the plans only to a fellow dwarf; there were many things that should not be shared with outsiders. But, if there was a threat here, he would have to deal with it, no matter the cost.

He knew that the trip would be quick one. He only had to pick up the documents they had prepared, and then leave. Almandar, by contrast, had gone out with a quiet smile on his face, and he would not be back before dawn. The whole human and elven preoccupation with such things seemed rather unseemly to him, and it was good to be among people who knew that you should not talk about such matters.

Ostrid, fortunately, would understand that. Almandar probably already had dirty thoughts about what might happen at the mason’s house that evening, but, if so, he could hardly be more wrong. Ostrid was, admittedly, quite attractive, but she was a little young for him, and anyway, there would have been a great many arrangements to be made if he had intended to woo her. Dwarves, unlike humans or elves, simply did not act like that, and it was a sign of trust that Tharn and Olthen had not even bothered to worry about such things. Just because two people of the opposite sex were in the same building together did not necessarily mean that they would try to… well, procreate.

The house had the typical appearance of most of the others nearby, but Dolrim’s practiced eye could discern the higher quality of the stonework, as befitted a dwarf of Tharn’s status and profession. It was also slightly larger, with a sloping roof of slate, a sign of the family’s wealth from its trade. He knocked on the door, and prepared to announce his name and purpose when Ostrid opened the door.

Only, it wasn’t Ostrid; it was Relayna.

Dolrim was puzzled, and immediately on the alert. Shouldn’t she be with Almandar right now? Or had he misinterpreted what the half-elf was doing tonight? It seemed unlikely, knowing him, but, of course, there was always the possibility that he had met someone else entirely.

Relayna was obviously a trusted friend of the Olain clan, and Tharn in particular, and, indeed, he had even heard her name before. She was a merchant who often worked with dwarves, helping to sell their wares onto the human market, especially beyond Haredil. So, as far as he knew, she could be trusted. Yet her presence here was strange, to say the least, and he had noticed that she had spent some time sizing up the adventurers when they had arrived. Almandar might have thought she was looking only at him, with his sometimes one-track mind, but Dolrim had found himself under her gaze as well. What did she really want?

“Dolrim,” she said, “do come in. We were just finishing a meal – I do love your cuisine – but all the documents are ready for you downstairs. Or so I’m told – apparently, I’m not allowed to see them!”

It seemed plausible, but somehow her words did not quite ring true. She was hiding something, but what? He was only carrying a dagger, since it did not do to wander the streets of the city in full armour and weapons, but it was a large one, and he was proficient with its use. He surreptitiously moved his hand towards it, ready to grab it if need be, but nonetheless stepped into the house. They were surrounded by fellow dwarves here, this should be a safe part of the city… but something odd was going on, something he did not quite understand. And, as a warrior, there was only one way to prepare for that.

Inside, the house was laid out in typical dwarven style. The ground floor was slightly sunken below street level, a single room taking up most of the space, with a kitchen behind, and stone spiral staircases running up to the upper story. Relayna, however, immediately went to the stairs leading down, as if expecting him to follow. Of course, dwarven houses, even in human cities, had substantial basements, but why not just hand over the documents here? And where was Ostrid?

He followed her down the steps, and immediately noticed an odd smell. It was spicy, tangy, a little like incense, but nothing he could identify. His hand was on his dagger now, alert for danger. It was not the smell of orcs, or anything so dangerous – in fact, it even seemed quite pleasant. But it was out of place here, and that was what worried him.

“Through here,” said the merchant, and he stepped into a room, his hand still on the dagger. It was darkened, with only a small brazier for illumination, but his eyes were naturally adapted to dim light, and soon made out the details.

It was a bedroom, in the typical basement style of many dwarves, where they could sleep surrounded by solid rock. More importantly, Ostrid wasn’t here. He turned, only to find that Relayna had closed the door, and was now leaning against the inside of it, blocking the only way out. With one hand, she lit a lamp standing on a bedside table, and yellow light spilled across the room.

The smell was stronger now, making him feel strange. Its scent tingled his nostrils, and made him feel hot, almost sweaty, as if he had eaten a spicy meal. It clouded his thoughts, but it did not make him feel weak or ill. In fact, he felt quite capable, energetic. “What… is… going… on?” he said through gritted teeth, half-drawing the dagger. She was unarmed, and there was no one else in the room. It would not be a difficult fight, if it came to it, and, from all that he knew, she was not even a magician. It seemed unlikely she was trying to attack or imprison him, so what, exactly, was her plan?

“There’s no need for the knife,” said Relayna, still leaning against the door, “you’re not in any danger. I will admit to being a little dishonest… but it is your friend Almandar who is going to be disappointed, not you. Right now, he should be collecting the documents from Ostrid – which, I am afraid, was not quite what I led him to expect he would be doing. I would have given you the documents myself, but she really did insist on hanging on to them. Even if… well, she is not giving them to who she said she would.”

Dolrim frowned, trying to ignore the smell that he now realised had to be coming from the small brazier. “That does not answer my question – what are you doing? What do you want me for?”

“Ah, yes,” she said, blushing slightly – unless the incense was affecting her, too, “that is the question.” She swallowed slightly, and reached one hand behind her back. Dolrim stiffened slightly, but he had seen her back as he followed her down the stairs; there was nothing hidden there, unless it was particularly small. A needle, perhaps, but surely not much more?

“I have worked with dwarves for a long time,” she said, still failing to get to the point – an annoying human trait. “And I have developed a real fondness for your people. I’m not lying when I say I like your cuisine, by the way. But there’s something dwarven I’ve nearly really had the opportunity to try.”

She was fiddling with something behind her back, but whatever it was, he could not see. The strange thing was that she did not seem aggressive. Nervous, perhaps, but even more than that, excited. Her tone of voice was almost friendly, not menacing; Dolrim really could not make out her behaviour at all.

“Dwarven men are strong, powerful, with those muscular arms and bodies,” she went on, her voice strangely husky all of a sudden. What did that have to do with… and then his thought stopped right there, as he realised what she was doing behind her back.

She was undoing the laces at the back of her dress.

She slid one arm out of it, and then the other, pulling it down over her hips, to pool at her feet. Underneath, she was wearing a long white shift, almost sleeveless, with a deep décolletage. “Now do you understand what you are here for?” she asked, “and, of course, why I needed the deception? Without it, I could never really have had the opportunity.”

He could have made a dash for the door, then, but he would have had to wrestle her out of the way. And, since she was wearing clothing that was no longer at all decent, to touch her at all might give her the wrong impression. Besides, all he had to do was refuse. It really was that simple… wasn’t it?

“But… you’re human,” he said, appalled at her brazen approach. “We don’t… certainly not with… if you know my people, you must know this! It’s just…” he spluttered, unable to think of what else to say.

“You don’t find me at all attractive?” she said teasingly, kicking off her shoes, and moving forward from the door, the thin shift clinging to her curves, and then leaning forward slightly to show off her cleavage.

“Don’t be… I mean you’re…” he tried to protest, to explain that she was the wrong shape, the wrong height, that her jaw was too rounded, her waist too slender, and her limbs too long. But, traitorously, he began to feel a stirring in his loins, looking at her. The curves of her body were different, yet somehow pleasing. He had never felt like this about a human woman before, could not imagine why he would. He was sweating now, and his dagger slipped from his weakened grasp, sliding back into its sheath. What was happening to him?

He had not moved from the spot where he stood, and she continued to advance towards him. He could run around her now, yet for some reason he did not feel he could move. It was not a literal paralysis, but his mind was in turmoil, unable to think properly.

She reached him, standing just a foot in front of him. His eye level was a little above her navel, the elongated slender abdomen of a human woman. He kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, clenching and unclenching his hands, trying to reach a decision about how to act. She knelt down, her face now more or less level with his, her blue eyes wide with excitement, her lips slightly parted. He avoided looking down, towards that low cut shift, and cursed the feeling in his groin that made him want to do just that.

“I don’t think you’re being entirely truthful,” she said, “not that I have been the paragon of honesty today, I admit. But now, let’s see…” She reached forward, to the tie at the top of his padded sleeveless leather tunic, deftly undoing it, and then pushing it back, over his arms, until it fell onto the stone flooring behind him.

He clenched his hands again, wanting to push her off, yet not wanting to at the same time. He knew this was not right, and that he could stop her at any time, yet he seemed unable to do so. She was pulling his shirt up from his trews now, lifting it up, over his chest, and still he was not resisting, although he knew he should have been. She pulled it over his head, and threw it away, and he took an involuntary step backwards, as if the sudden movement had cleared his head for a moment.

He blinked, as a bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face. The smell from the incense was… yes, surely that had to be it, he realised suddenly! “An aphrodisiac?” he said, sharply, nodding towards the brazier.

“Ah, yes… you see, I thought you might need a little encouragement. A loosening of those famed dwarven inhibitions. But it can’t make you do what you don’t want to. If you were truly repulsed by me, you would feel hot, that is all.”

Her eyes travelled down his body, now bare from the waist up. “Muscular indeed,” she said, her voice husky again, “you look manly, Dolrim.” She reached out, almost gingerly, and stroked his chest, running her fingers through the hair, and across the firm muscles of his pectorals. He felt his erection grow, now almost straining against the firm material of his trews. He had to resist, had to… He closed his eyes, driving the picture of her scantily clad body from his mind. Surely, if he did not respond, then she would leave?

There was a rustle of cloth, but she did not reach for him again, and he kept his eyes firmly closed. “Don’t you want to see?” she said, and despite himself, he looked.

She had removed her shift, kneeling before him now wearing nothing more than a pair of silky undergarments far briefer than anything any dwarven woman would wear. Her waist was slender, a smooth and hairless expanse, more hour-glass shaped than that of a dwarf. Her breasts hung loose now, the pink nipples fully engorged. His eyes focused on a smattering of pale freckles on her shoulders and collarbone, then he forced his gaze upwards and away, towards her face.

“I think you like it, don’t you? And that can’t just be the perfume. It doesn’t work like that.” She cupped her breasts, running her hands over them, rubbing the swollen nipples, while his traitorous eyes took in every movement. His erection felt huge now, uncontrollable. Surely this had to be over soon?

“I’m not…” he began, trying to explain, to make her see sense. “You’re human, and I’m a dwarf. I just couldn’t!”

“Hmm…” she said, “it doesn’t look like that to me.” Suddenly, she reached down and grabbed his crotch, cupping his swelling erection through the soft leather, squeezing his balls slightly as she did so. He grunted involuntarily, unable to prevent himself. His cock felt like it might burst. “Thought not,” she said, simply.

Words were beyond him now, he could not think of anything to say. There was no way he could deny that his body was responding as it would do to any dwarven woman, no matter his personal shame. Perhaps, he thought, she had lied about the power of the aphrodisiac perfume – perhaps it did inspire thoughts that no normal person would otherwise have. Perhaps it even worked differently on his own race than it did on humans.

Deep down, though, he knew that was not true.

He remained motionless, still standing stiffly, as she undid his belt, dropping it, and the dagger, to the floor. Her fingers reached for the drawstring on his trews, and finally he moved, grabbing her wrist. “No…” he managed, almost a croak.

“I don’t think you mean that,” she said, “and I’ve come too far to give in now.” She raised her left hand, slowly, moving it towards where he held the other. He had plenty of time to grab that, too, yet this time remained still, his eyes watching her hand as if in fascination, but doing nothing to stop her.

With a little fumbling, she untied the drawstring, and her right hand slipped free from his sweaty and rapidly weakening grip. She grabbed onto either side of his trews, and with a single motion, yanked both them and his underwear down around his knees. His cock sprang up, free at last, rising from the thick mass of pubic hair.

She said nothing at first, her eyes fixed on the prize. He shuddered, as guilt and shame rose up inside him, but unable to control the powerful lust that he felt. She reached out, and he grunted through clenched teeth as she took his cock in one hand, sliding along it from his balls to the tip, running her thumb over his foreskin. “Fully human-sized,” she breathed, “I had wondered.”

She released him, and stood up, bringing his eyes level with the base of her chest again. This time he looked up, in spite of himself, watching the rise and fall of her breasts, just above his head height. With another swift motion, she pulled down her last remaining item of clothing, and then turned away from him, walking towards the bed.

She climbed onto it, resting forward on hands and knees, her breasts hanging down and her buttocks raised in the air. The dwarven bed was too short for her, of course, and even in that position, her feet reached over the low board at the base. Her rear was towards him, and she parted her long legs, revealing her pink, swollen vulva. She was almost hairless down there, and he could see her moisture in the lamplight. She was breathing heavily, her breasts moving up and down as she did so.

“The door isn’t locked,” she told him, although it had never occurred to him that it might be. “You can leave now, and nobody will ever know. Or you can fulfil my wildest dream. It is,” she went on, with a hint of regret, “your choice now.”

He looked at the door, and at the clothes gathered about him. It would be so easy to pull his trews back up and leave. But he knew, in that moment, that he did not want to. He gave a short, wordless shout, and reached down to pull his boots off, taking the last of his clothes with them. Naked, he ran across the room, and leaped onto the back of the bed.

How dare she treat him like this? He was going to show her! He stood up on the mattress and looked down at her back, at the pony tail draped partly across it and then hanging down to one side. She turned her head towards him, looking back, first at his own face, as if sizing up his emotions, and then at his bulging cock, now rising just above her buttocks. “Yes…” she said, the word almost catching in her throat.

He grabbed her waist with both hands, feeling the soft human skin, and hoisted her up level with his hips. Her knees were lifted free of the bed as he did so, and she took the opportunity to move her feet onto it, pressing her toes against the wooden board for support. “You do not mock a dwarven warrior,” he told her firmly, “or you will feel his spear.” He looked down at her damp pussy, his throbbing cock barely an inch away, and then pulled her suddenly towards him, thrusting his hips forward in the same motion, plunging himself deep inside her cunt.

She yelped, a loud cry of sheer pleasure. His own excitement was intense, the feeling of her soft yielding cunt around his cock even better than he had imagined. He pulled out, then thrust into her again and again, gripping her hips hard, digging his fingers into her round buttocks. Raylana let out a long groan of her own, her eyes wide with passion, sweat beading on her brow.

At first his grunts were wordless, almost aggressive in their tenor, but then he found his voice again. “You… will… feel… what… it means…” he gasped, ramming his swollen cock home over and over into her tight warmth, “to be with… a dwarf… and no… human… will… satisfy you… again.”

He wasn’t even sure if she could hear him, her moans of pleasure were now so loud and prolonged. He continued to slam into her, muscular arms and buttocks working in unison to impale her. Her breasts shook, her whole body jerking with the force of his action. Her legs were quaking, but still holding up, pressing hard against the bed, as his cock rammed in and out of her moist pussy.

He felt himself near release, and increased the pace of his pumping still further, drawing yet more groans of ecstasy from Relayna’s open mouth. At last, he shouted an old dwarven war-cry, and with one final thrust, felt himself cum, spurting his hot dwarven semen into her weak human pussy. Her cunt convulsed, gripping him as she thrashed in the throws of her own sudden orgasm, until at last they both collapsed in an exhausted, sweaty heap.