Elandra had already composed herself; she knew that the woman she had come to see had a half-orc assistant and bodyguard. She was no aristocrat, but still, half-orcs were not a race that she had had many dealings with before. This one, just from the sound of his gravely voice and crude grammar, seemed to fit the stereotype. Which made it easier to deal with him, in a way, so long as she didn’t show fear or disgust at his appearance. After all, his employer surely needed new customers every now and then.
“We are here to see Nyvara,” she said, keeping her voice steady, “we want to buy something.”
“We?” asked the half-orc, his eyes glancing about.
He could probably see far better than her in the dark of the night, but from his vantage point behind the door, her body was blocking his view of Tinberly.
“My daughter is here with me,” she said, reluctantly taking a half step to the side, so that he could see. Surely they looked harmless enough?
The half-orc grunted, “you wait here. I be back soon.”
The little shutter closed, leaving the two of them outside in the darkened alley. Elandra pulled her shawl more tightly around herself, although it was more the lateness of the hour and the unfamiliarity of the streets that was getting to her than any feeling of cold, for, if anything, it was quite a warm night.
“There won’t be a problem,” she told Tinberly, with slightly more confidence than she felt. The teenager nodded, wide eyes looking up and down the empty alley, arms gripped around her sides.
Before long, the door opened, and the half-orc beckoned them inside. Gratefully, they both stepped within, into a room as dark as the alley itself. Elandra could only make out the outline of the half-orc in the gloom. He was a big man, almost a foot taller than she, with large brawny arms and a powerful build. She couldn’t see his face clearly, but even if it was not as fearsome as she expected, he would still look quite threatening.
“You go down,” he said, pulling aside a curtain at the far side of the room.
It led to a stairway heading down, she supposed, to a cellar. “Thank you,” she said, seeing no reason not to be polite. The half-orc grunted again, sounding pleasantly surprised. Perhaps most strangers didn’t bother talking to him at all.
There was another curtain at the end of the stairway, and then she was through into the sorceress’s den. She glanced around at the occult symbols on the walls, the hanging lanterns and the range of odd-looking items on the bench in front of her. But her eyes were drawn mainly to the woman who sat behind it, in a high-backed chair.
She certainly looked the part, clothed in a tight black dress with a plunging neckline and a silver pentagram on her belt. Her skin was almost unnaturally pale, contrasting with long, jet black hair and dark eyes that were obviously appraising the pair of them carefully. Elandra was very aware of the fact that the half-orc was just a short distance away, and that Nyvara herself was said to be an accomplished magician.
“Please sit,” said the sorceress, her voice silky smooth, “and tell me what it is that you desire.”
Once again doing her best to hide her nervousness, Elandra sat on the little stool in front of the bench. She almost immediately regretted it, realising that there was not another chair for Tinberly to sit at, forcing the girl to remain standing. It was too late now, and she should just press on, getting this over with as quickly as possible.
“My husband died three years ago,” she began, “and it has been hard for us since. I no longer have any family, except for my daughter. I have little else to call my own,”
Nyvara’s eyes moved between the pair of them, her expression at first neutral, but then seeming to be interested as she continued with her story, of how it was difficult to make a living alone in the poorer parts of the city. Yet, Elandra felt, she did not seem at all sympathetic; instead it was if she saw some opportunity for herself here, some way to turn their misfortune to her own advantage.
The rumours did not say that Nyvara was cruel, but neither had they anything to say about her being compassionate. She sold magical items to those who needed to maintain secrecy, or where such items were not entirely legal, or moral. Such a way of life, Elandra saw, had evidently inured the sorceress to the suffering of others, leaving a mercenary soul concerned only for her own profit. That would surely make things difficult when it came to negotiating a price, but, then again, perhaps any sale would be better for the woman than none at all.
“My daughter turned eighteen a couple of months ago,” she went on, “she is barely more than a girl. But my landlord… he has threatened her, to get to me. I can’t allow that. You must understand, as a woman, that it is a mother’s first obligation to protect her child.”
Nyvara said nothing, although Elandra thought saw the ghost of a smile on those pale lips. It was like being watched by a reptile, the woman was so cold-blooded.
“So,” she ploughed on, “I need protection for her. A charm of some kind, something to protect her from harm. You do such things, do you not?”
The sorceress leaned back in her chair, and her lips twitched, a clearer smile this time. “Yes,” she said, “the most effective, within your price range, would be something that warned of an impending threat. That I can do.”
She reached across the bench, lifting up a box, and placing it between the two of them. Her delicate fingers slid open some sort of complicated catch, and she darted a hand inside, not allowing Elandra to see any of the contents. She removed a coppery medallion, decorated with a symbol resembling an eye, and with some sort of engraving around the rim. It was held on a long green cord, evidently intended to be worn around the neck.
“This,” she said, closing the box carefully, “will suit your needs perfectly. Wear it, and you will be warned of any approaching danger, in ample time for you to leave. It warms up, and gives the wearer a distinct prickling sensation that is impossible to miss so long as one wears it close to the skin. It will not protect against an attacker, but it will allow one the time to escape. You must simply move quickly in a direction that causes the sensation from the medallion to become weaker, until it vanishes altogether.”
Elandra nodded. She could hardly have expected a magical barrier or something that would throw back hostile magic at an attacker, not for the money she would be able to pay, but this should be enough. Enough to keep Tinberly safe until she could find another solution to their predicament.
“Yes,” she said, “I will take it.”
Nyvara named the price, and Elandra once again felt the bottom falling out of her world. She was behind with her rent, which was a large part of the problem in the first place, how could the sorceress possibly expect her to pay such a sum?
“That is… I…”
Nyvara named another price, lower than the first, but still beyond her grasp.
“I could manage half that…” Nyvara frowned, black eyebrows drawn together in a way that looked almost menacing. “Uh… perhaps I could pay the rest by instalments?”
“That is my lowest price, and there will be no instalments.” The sorceress flipped the medallion up into her hand, visibly moving it further away from Elandra, yet still keeping it visible. “Do you want it or not?”
Elandra looked across to her daughter. The teenager was standing there, silent throughout the conversation, looking embarrassed and a little nervous. She was such a beautiful young girl, and the only thing of value her mother truly had. She needed the protection, yet the price was simply one she could not pay.
“Please…” she said, turning back to the sorceress, resigned now to beg for what she needed, “I can’t allow her to come to harm. There must be something I can do, something we can work out. I’ll do anything to protect my family.”
This time the sorceress was silent, saying nothing for a while, before raising one finger to her lips, and tapping them gently. “Perhaps,” she said, “there is something. Payment need not be in cash, after all.” She put her hand down, and smiled a smile that did not reach her eyes. “But this is something we will need to discuss alone. Your daughter will be safe in the anteroom.”
Elandra swallowed, finding it impossible now to hide her nervousness and unease at how things were developing. But she had no real choice, no other way in which to go. Whatever it was that Nyvara wanted to her to do, she had no doubt it would be unpleasant or illegal. It was also true that she did not want Tinberly to hear the details, whatever they were, so she had little alternative to letting her leave while they discussed things.
She turned back to her daughter, trying to look reassuring. “It’s okay, it will just be for a moment. We need to do this.”
“But, mother…” Tinberly spoke for the first time, a look of concern on her young face.
“It will be all right. Please, just for a little while.”
As they spoke, Nyvara rang a little bell that had been hidden among the clutter on the bench top. Heavy footsteps came down the stairs, and the half-orc pushed the lower curtain aside, and stood, waiting for instructions.
It was the first time that Elandra had been able to get a good look at him. He was, as she had already observed, well over six feet tall, with a powerful physique that threatened to burst out of his clothing. His skin was greyish-green in colour, his hair dark and close-cropped. Even had it not been for the hue of his skin and his yellowish eyes, there would have been no mistaking him for a pureblood human. His brows were beetling, heavy ridge-like protuberances, and his face and nose were flattened, with wide cheek bones and a slightly protruding lower jaw. Two blunt tusks jutted out from that jaw, pressed against his greyish upper lips.
She barely managed to suppress her shudder, but manage she did. Which was as well; she did not want to look weak.
“Look after my younger guest in the anteroom for a few minutes will you, Rolgor?” asked Nyvara. “We will not be long. I will ring for you again once our negotiations are concluded.”
The half-orc – Rolgor – nodded, and beckoned for Tinberly to precede him upstairs. With a last worried glance at her mother, and an obvious show of reluctance, she did so, and soon the curtain swished shut again.
“Now,” said Nyvara, still business like, “let us discuss how you can help me. You see, in addition to medallions,” she twirled it in her fingers, making it catch the light, “and so forth, I also make potions. Sometimes those have ingredients that can be difficult to acquire. Should you provide me with a certain ingredient, then I could see myself clear to reducing the price to, shall we say, half of my latest offer?”
That Elandra could certainly afford, and she felt a burst of relief, before realising that whatever the ingredient was, there had to be some sort of catch to acquiring it.
“Elandra, “ said Nyvara, her voice silky, “you are about forty years old, are you not?” The woman nodded dumbly, before realising that she hadn’t given the sorceress her name. “Good, that should be acceptable for the potion that I need.”
“It is,” she continued, gaze steadily on the increasingly worried woman in front of her, “one of the more common potions that I find requested of me. A love potion – I am sure you see why there would be a market for such. And one of the ingredients for this particular love potion can only be obtained from the body of a woman.”
“You want…” Elandra tried to deduce the other woman’s meaning, “you want some of my blood?”
Nyvara’s lips twitched again, a merciless smile, “nothing so harmful, I assure you. No, I refer to your sexual juices, freshly gathered.”
The shock must have been evident on her face, yet Nyvara showed no reaction. “I have to…?” she managed eventually, “To what? I don’t understand.”
“I want a sample of your sexual juices, Elandra, obtained during the act of intercourse with a man. You can see why I didn’t think your daughter should hear this. I am not, after all, heartless to your difficulties.”
She didn’t sound like she really meant that last part, but it didn’t matter. How was she supposed to do what was being asked of her? “But… but…” she began.
“Let me absolutely blunt,” said Nyvara, her voice still calm and level, as if discussing the purchase of a roll of bread, “I want you, now, this evening, in a private room just upstairs, to have sex with Rolgor. He knows how to collect the fluids, so you need do nothing else. Do this for me, and you can have the medallion,” she held it out, temptingly close to the other woman, “and your daughter will be safe. She need know nothing about it; we will say you have gone to collect something. And you only need do it once. What do you say?” She twirled the medallion, making it catch the lamp light again.
Elandra shuddered, stifling back a sob, and clutched her hands convulsively in the fabric of her dress. She gazed down at the floor, unable to meet the sorceress’s gaze any longer. She had only ever made love to her husband before, and while he had been dead for some years, so that it was not technically a betrayal, how could she do something like this? How could another woman ask it of her? She should never have come here.
And yet, what if this was the only way to protect Tinberly? Her sweet and only child could fall prey to something just as terrible, if she did not do this. Just this once. Elandra shivered again, and dabbed at her eyes with the hem of her shawl, before raising her head to stare Nyvara directly in the face.
“Yes,” she said.
“Good,” replied the raven-haired sorceress, her smile for the first time looking genuine.
She rang the bell again, and Rolgor returned downstairs, with Tinberly in tow. Nyvara stepped out from behind her bench of paraphernalia, long black skirts swishing, and went up to the half-orc, standing on tip-toe to whisper something into his ear. Rolgor grinned widely, a flash of large teeth, his tusks more visible than ever, and his yellowish eyes wandered over her body,
Elandra stood, trying to collect herself. “I have to go somewhere, darling,” she said, amazed at how steady her voice sounded, “I won’t be gone long, so don’t worry. I’ll be back in no time. I’m doing this for you.”
Tinberly nodded, frowning. She could tell that something was amiss, but surely could have no idea what it was. Thank the gods for that, at least.
Rolgor walked across the room, lifting a tapestry on the far side that was decorated with occult and astrological symbols. A narrow corridor stretched beyond, and taking her cue, with one last look at her daughter, Elandra stepped within.
“Stairs on your right,” said Rolgor’s deep voice behind her, as he dropped the curtain again, plunging the subterranean corridor back into darkness.
With a little difficulty, she found them, walking up them slowly, partly from nervousness, and partly because she couldn’t really see where she was going. She almost stumbled at the top, and Rolgor’s hand reached out to steady her, touching her waist through the thick fabric of her dress. He was surprisingly gentle, waiting for her to regain her balance before withdrawing his hand again wordlessly. But still, it felt odd.
“Here,” he said again, and stepped in front of her to open a door in the side of whatever new corridor they had entered.
It was barely lighter up here, the windows evidently shuttered, but a moment later, he had found a lantern, and lit it. The darkness would be no refuge, then.
Rolgor stepped over to a cupboard, fiddling inside for some small package, and she took the opportunity to look around the room. It wasn’t much, a bare place with a large bed for his heavy frame, a couple of trunks, a bedside table, and, as she had suspected, a single shuttered window. She twisted the end of the shawl in her hands, uncertain of what to do next. Was he about to force her up against the wall, push her down onto the bed, or what?
“You undress, please, lady,” said Rolgor.
His voice was quiet, despite its deep, guttural, tone, asking, not demanding or brutal, as she had half suspected. It wasn’t what she expected of a half-orc, and that was resulting in confused signals. She didn’t know quite how to feel. She was nervous, a little horrified about what was about to happen, and, at the same time, somewhat expectant. It had been over three years, after all.
She pulled her shawl off, looking about for somewhere to put it. Rolgor gently took it from her, placing it on the small table. He smiled, with less of a leer than last time, only his tusks really showing. Elandra turned away from him, and began to undo her girdle.
Soon, she stepped out of her dress, clad now only in her underwear. She could not imagine what Rolgor made of her, for presumably he did not have much success with women. Although she was just entering her fifth decade, she supposed that her body was not too bad for her age. She was hardly slender any more, and the sag of gravity had taken its toll in places. She had crow’s feet about her eyes, and a few grey hairs starting to come through, but there were many her age who had come through the decades rather more affected.
Still dressed in her shift, she sat down on the bed, lifted her legs up to lie on it, and looked back towards Rolgor. The half-orc had stripped down to the waist, revealing a powerfully muscular chest with sparse dark hair overlying the greyish-green skin. There was barely an ounce of fat on him, she reflected, as he reached for his belt.
Well, she thought, with a sense of false bravado. You know what they say about half-orcs… ugly as sin, but…
Rolgor dropped his pants, and Elandra actually gasped, her eyes widening.
It wasn’t a myth.
──◊──
Nyvara felt most satisfied with the way things were progressing. She had sensed that desperation in the mother, notwithstanding that her divinatory powers had already given her a clue as to how things might progress. Elandra had been willing to do anything to protect her daughter, even if that meant having sex with a half-orc, something that, as bravely as she had tried to hide it, evidently somewhat disturbed her.
She did need the ingredients for her potion, that was true enough, but she could have accepted a much lower price than the one she originally offered to Elandra. Indeed, the cash price she was now receiving was a much more reasonable one, and she would gain the woman’s juices into the bargain. Assuming, of course, that Rolgor managed to get her aroused enough, which was difficult to predict.
But that, so far as Nyvara was concerned, would be merely an added bonus. She hadn’t wanted to get Elandra out of the way just to collect the fluids, or to give her bodyguard a reward. No, she had something entirely more satisfying to achieve through the night’s events.
“Would you like a drink while we’re waiting?” she asked the girl.
“Uh, yes, please. Thank you.” Elandra’s daughter looked nervous, and only seemed to be agreeing in order to fill the silence. She was sitting on the stool, fidgeting, and fiddling with the dark material of her clothes. “Do you think they’ll be long?”
“Possibly,” said the sorceress, “but there’s nothing to worry about. Your mother is just running a little errand for me, and I’m sure Rolgor can keep her safe from any possible harm.”
She stepped past the tapestry, to collect a drink from an alcove in the wall. Her hand flickered towards a potion there, intending to add a drop or two to the water, but she decided against it. If she read things correctly, it would not be necessary, and the evening’s events would be all the more delicious without the added coercion.
Instead, she moved to the second part of her plan, and, with her back turned to the young girl, cast a spell. It would activate the scrying device in Rolgor’s room, allowing whatever sounds were being made in there to drift down to the cellar. The girl’s reaction to that should be interesting.
“Here you are,” she said, returning and holding out the glass. “You didn’t tell me your name.”
“Tinberly,” said the girl, taking the glass, and sipping the cool water.
A grunting groan came from behind the curtain where she had cast the spell. Tinberly looked up, surprised. “What’s that?” she asked, suddenly frightened.
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it, it’s nothing.”
Rolgor’s voice sounded, its deep tone unmistakable: “Ohhh, yes…”
“That… that sounds like…” Tinberly’s eyes were wide, her hands gripping the glass as she stared towards the tapestry.
“Ignore it. It’s not important. Why don’t we talk about something else?”
Rolgor groaned again, a deep throated sound. “Oh, oh, oh… uhh… you good…”
Tinberly gasped, as the truth of what she was hearing dawned on her. “Oh, my goodness!” she said with a hint of horror in her eyes, her cheeks flushing bright red. “That’s him! It’s your… and my mother!” The last words came out almost in a squeak, as Tinberly placed the glass hurriedly onto the carpeted floor, and covered her ears with her hands, a look of mortified shock on her face. “Make it stop! I don’t want to listen!”
Nyvara waved her hands, casting two spells in rapid succession, although the girl would never be able to tell there was more than one. Silvery and red lights sparkled around her fingertips, and then faded.
“It’s gone,” she said, leaning forward towards the girl, “you don’t have to listen any more.”
Tinberly nervously lowered her hands, and looked relieved to discover that the sound had, indeed, faded. As Nyvara knew, of course, since her first spell had been to cancel the scrying. In all honesty, she had no more wish to hear what Rolgor got up to than anyone else would, and the sound had already given her the cover to cast the more important spell.
The teenager still looked shocked, as well she might. “My mother and that… man… are… and she’s doing it for me!” She looked almost on the verge of tears, “you’ve got to tell her she doesn’t have to.”
“It’s a bit late for that, I think. Besides, she won’t want to know that you know, will she? It is difficult enough for her already, I imagine. I am sorry about the noise, but the spell I have just cast will prevent any sound from reaching this room. You’ll just have to think about something else until they return.”
Tinberly nodded glumly. She was a pretty girl, Nyvara reflected, remembering that her mother had said she had only turned eighteen a few months ago. She looked it, with fresh young skin, a sculpted face and slender body, and long dark hair that fell to her mid back. Oh, yes, this would be interesting.
“It’s rather hot down here,” said the girl after a while. A faint sheen of perspiration showed on her skin, and she ran a dainty hand over her neck, adjusting her long hair.
“Yes, I’m sorry about that,” said Nyvara, who had been waiting for just that remark, “it’s the effect of the silence spell. It affects the flow of air, you see, so the room warms up. It really will get quite hot in here after a while, I’m afraid.” It was a lie, of course, because there was no silence spell. Just a heating spell.
“Oh,” said the girl, apparently believing her, and picked up the glass to drink the rest of the water. The sorceress watched the movement of the girl’s throat as she drank, the long neck extended, sweat beading the upper margin of her high cut dress.
“If you feel too hot, you can take some clothes off,” she suggested, slowly walking over to stand behind the young woman as she sat on the stool, “I won’t mind, and the bell will ring before Rolgor comes back, so he won’t see you.”
“Oh, no… I wouldn’t want… I mean, that wouldn’t be…” Tinberly stammered, and Nyvara could imagine her face flushing again, although she could not see it from this vantage point.
Daringly, she moved her hand downwards, to rest on the teenager’s shoulder. The girl didn’t flinch at the touch, but when the sorceress began to peel back the dress to expose one shapely shoulder, she suddenly reached a hand up to grab the material, preventing her from moving it further. Nyvara withdrew her hand, but blew gently on the girl’s skin, a cooling breath on the damp flesh, before walking away.
Tinberly still sat on the stool, looking awkward, and the older woman wondered if she might need the potion after all. But the girl had not yet pulled her dress back into place, her shoulder still bare. Perhaps that was a good sign.
“Well, I’m feeling hot,” said Nyvara, turning away to face the wall, revealing the back of her dress, cut to reach down to just above her buttocks. “So I hope you don’t mind if I wear a little less.”
──◊──
Elandra did not have a great range of experience with penises. In her whole life, the only person she had ever made love to was her husband, and she had assumed, for lack of any good evidence to the contrary, that his five inch member was fairly average. But, if that was so, then Rolgor was truly gifted, whether or not that also held true for half-orcs in general.
Right at the moment, Rolgor’s swollen, grey-green, nine inch cock was sliding in and out of Elandra’s mouth. She had never done this for her husband, whose sexual activity, while undeniably satisfying, had never been particularly adventurous. But when the half-orc had thrust his erection towards her face, pulling back the foreskin to reveal a large, purplish head, a sudden impulse had made her press it to her lips. From there, it had not been long before he pushed his way in.
“Ohhh, yes…” groaned the half-orc, his deep voice thick with passion.
This was not what she had expected at all. He wasn’t forcing her to do anything, but, for some reason, here she was, sliding her tongue over the firmness of his cock, licking the underside of his glans and shaft, moving her lips back and forward over his length. Her vision was filled with a view of the half-orc’s groin, his pubic hair sparse and bristly, his grey-green balls swaying as his hips rocked back and forth into her mouth.
She realised that this might not be as bad as she had feared just minutes before. He was not taking her savagely, as she had thought he might – although he was, so far, certainly receiving more pleasure than he was giving. If anything, though, with his cock in her mouth, he seemed vulnerable, and she realised with a thrill that he was, for the time being, in her power. She was in charge, able to pleasure him or not, as the whim took her.
She gripped his muscular buttocks with one hand, pushing him further into her mouth as she reached for his balls with the other, rubbing the bristly hair of his scrotum. She fought hard to suppress her gag reflex as he plunged deep into her, his hips moving with greater urgency.
“Oh, oh, oh… uhh… you good…”
She pulled back, and he did nothing to stop her. She had come close to choking just then, she thought, as she licked a stray stream of saliva from his glistening cock, but it had been worth the feeling of control.
She leaned back on the bed, and looked up at him, towering over her. His yellowish eyes gazed on her with evident desire, and something close to awe. Her eagerness had obviously surprised him as much as it had herself. He reached down, brushing hair away from her face, and cupping her cheek, his rough fingers and large hands gentle against her skin.
“Pretty lady,” he said, grinning to show white teeth and tusks against greenish skin. Elandra took another opportunity to take the lead, and hitched her shift up, pulling it over her head and depositing it by the bed. Rolgor let out a grunting sigh as his eyes wandered over her now almost naked body. “Pretty lady,” he said again, before adding “I like.”
Whatever else he might have been, she reflected, he wasn’t a good conversationalist – but perhaps this wasn’t the time. He moved his hand down to cup one of her breasts, running the thumb over her large brown nipple. His grin was infectious, and she found herself smiling too, and pushing her body closer towards him as he continued to massage her breast.
“Do you like them?” she asked, almost unable to believe the words had come out of her mouth to anyone, least of all a half-orc.
He nodded wordlessly, pressing himself against her, she kneeling, and he standing, so that his cock squeezed against the underside of her breasts. Moving herself into a lower position, she placed one breast so that the nipple rubbed against his tip, drawing a sort of strangled grunt from the big man.
He pulled back then, into the shadows cast by the lamp light, although she could see his eyes wider than ever, his tongue licking his lips as he panted with anticipation. Looking down at his throbbing member, she could only agree. The concern and slight revulsion she had felt earlier had entirely been consumed by passion. If anything, perhaps that earlier frisson of fear had aroused her, but she no longer cared what the reason behind her mounting excitement was. She wanted to feel what that giant cock was like inside her.
Rolgor moved round to the base of the bed, and Elandra rolled over onto her back, legs parted. The half-orc reached across to pull her panties down, sliding them over thighs that she had to admit were a little flabby these days. Not that he seemed to mind.
He ran a hand over her naked mound, and down towards her sex. With a feather-light touch, he slid his index finger over her pussy, then lifted it to his nostrils, taking an eager sniff. She remembered briefly what she was here for, although the encounter was already so much more than that.
“That good,” he said nodding, “we get plenty to keep sorceress happy.” His expression turned quizzical, eyeing her curiously, and when he next spoke his voice was wavering and uncertain. “You like?” he asked, “you like me?”
Her heart hammered in her chest. He was anything but a handsome man, his face brutish, and his orcish heritage immediately apparent. But he had shown her more consideration than she had expected, and the way he asked the question seemed almost endearing, a touching lack of confidence in one so large and powerful.
“Yes, Rolgor,” she said, “I like you.”
The half-orc grinned wider than ever, pressing his hand back to her sex, forcing the index finger between her swollen pussy lips, easing into the dampness. She gasped, her hips involuntarily pushing back against his hand. She squeezed one of her own breasts, gripping it in her hand, and Rolgor’s eyes followed every movement.
“You want this?” he asked, climbing onto the bed, and kneeling between her legs, his large cock pressing against her inner thigh, the head inches from the seat of her pleasure. He seemed eager now, less uncertain, obviously satisfied by both her answer and her actions so far. “Tell me what you want, pretty lady.”
Elandra took a deep breath. “Rolgor,” she said, her voice firm and decisive, “I want you to fuck me. I want you to fuck me long and hard with that big cock of yours until I come.”
He suddenly gripped her buttocks, lifting her up so that they rested on his massive thighs, her own legs forced out to either side of his hairy chest. She looked up, now resting on her arms and shoulders, towards the heavy features of his face, watching him pant with anticipation, just as he pressed his purplish glans against her pussy. His eyes were fixed on hers as he thrust himself half-way inside, then, gripping her more firmly, pushed himself the rest of the way in.
Rolgor’s grunt of undisguised pleasure was drowned by Elandra’s own gasping cry. He felt even bigger inside her cunt than he had in her mouth, his girth spreading her damp lips apart, his great length filling her far more than she had ever been filled before.
Then he began to move, his hips grinding into her, that massive shaft slowly pressing in and out, squeezing against her clit. He was moaning and grunting as he did so, his deep voice contrasting against the higher pitch of her own cries. She had never been this vocal with her husband, but then, she had never been fucked with a nine inch cock before.
Between her gasps, she looked up at her partner, admiring the way the muscles moved beneath his flesh, at the way her pale thighs gripped either side of his grey-green chest, the way his large hands gripped her hips. She watched as his magnificent cock pressed its way in and out of her cunt, spreading her wide and filling her with sensations she had never felt before, not in this way. But still, he seemed to be holding back.
“Rolgor,” she cried out, between gasps of pleasure, “fuck me harder!”
“I not want to hurt you, pretty lady,” he replied, his hips continuing their slow rhythmic pounding.
“I said, fuck me harder!”
There was a hard edge to the demand, and one that clearly registered on the half-orc’s face. He leaned over her to press one hand against the wall above her head, and she realised again how tall he was. His hips began pumping faster, his thrusts even deeper and more vigorous than before, and Elandra surrendered to the sensation, reduced to crying out in wordless passion.
Her breasts wobbled from the force of his renewed thrusts, and he reached out his free hand to squeeze one, massaging the nipple. Rolgor himself was letting out a sustained groan, a deep growling rumble, wavering as he continued to pound into her with increasing energy, his mouth half open, saliva running across his lips and blunt tusks.
With a final desperate grunt, he came inside her, as the waves of her orgasm broke. She gripped onto his chest, pulling him down on top of her, crying out as his cock pumped her aching cunt full of hot semen.
They lay there like that for a little while, wrapped in each others arms, legs entwined. But then the half-orc clambered off her, albeit with evident reluctance. He padded over to the table where had placed the things from the cupboard, and soon she felt a damp swabbing at her pussy, which was still a little sore from his attentions. Ah, yes, she’d actually forgotten about that.
“Are you sure you’ve got enough?” as he returned to the table, doing something with some bottles while his back was turned to her.
“Yes. I have plenty. Thank you much, pretty lady.”
“You’re absolutely certain?” she continued, levering herself up on her elbows, and wiping a sweat-drenched strand of hair from her eyes.
“Yes, I am certain.”
He certainly wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box, she reflected. Instead of asking again, she reached over to him, pushing her hand between his legs.
“That’s a pity,” she said, stroking his balls, “unless there’s any other reason you might want to come back to bed?”
──◊──
Nyvara leaned back against the desk, dressed only in tight black leather boots reaching to mid calf, and a pair of cotton panties. She had worn no shift under her dress, of course, since it had been too low cut for that even to be a possibility. She arched her back slightly, thrusting her prominent, pale, breasts outward, and flicked a stray of black hair away from her sweat-damp forehead. Tinberly was blushing deeply, looking away towards the far wall, her hands gripped tightly in her lap.
“That feels better,” said the sorceress, “cooler. Are you sure you won’t join me? We’re all girls together, and there’s no way Rolgor will see. Or your mother, for that matter.”
“No… I’m… I’m fine, thank you,” replied the girl, but even as she did so a big bead of sweat rolled down the side of her face, dipping towards her eye, making her blink and move a hand to wipe away the salty sting.
“You don’t look it,” commented Nyvara, “and, besides, you’re making me feel a little embarrassed. You wouldn’t want to make your hostess feel embarrassed, would you? Especially since you’re suffering.”
Slowly, Tinberly stood, still studiously looking away from the sorceress, and began to fumble with her girdle, taking it off and laying it over the side of the stool. Her black dress was tight, with narrow sleeves, and it took a little while to remove, and to place beside her on the floor. She sat down again, her hands once again clenched before her, looking down at the floor, and Nyvara noticed that she was actually shaking slightly.
That didn’t stop the sorceress admiring the partially clothed young teenager. Her shift was short-sleeved, showing off slender young arms with creamy soft skin, and the thin fabric clung to the slight curves of her body. The hem reached her mid-thigh, and the girl’s legs were shapely indeed, the skin flawless, and almost as pale as her own. At the moment, they were pressed tightly together, her booted feet fidgeting.
“There… that’s better, isn’t it?” Nyvara said reassuringly. There was probably some truth in that, too, although she could still see beads of sweat on the girl’s bare skin, and damp patches on the fabric under her armpits.
The girl nodded, silently, glancing up at the sorceress, then looking away suddenly, as if ashamed of what she saw. Nyvara smiled, and stepped away from the desk, slowly lying down on the thick carpet, her legs towards Tinberly.
“Yes, much better”, she said, running a finger up her flank until it reached her shoulder.
She slowly licked the bead of collected sweat off the tip, watching Tinberly’s reaction. The girl was watching her now, no longer looking away, her eyes wide, as if trying to decide what the sorceress was doing, uncertain as to what was happening. Nyvara didn’t say anything, suspecting that words might break the girl’s temporary trance, and instead slid her hand down her body, palm flat, brushing over her prominent breasts and flat belly. She sighed, dipping the fingers under the hem of her panties, easing the material down half an inch to expose some of her hip.
“Mmm…” she murmured, closing her eyes and arching her back slightly.
Slowly, she pulled her panties down, flicking them away with one booted foot. She kept her legs parted, now running her hand over the dark triangle of hair on her groin, contrasting so deeply with the pallor of her skin. She opened her eyes again, risking a direct look towards Tinberly. The girl’s eyes were wider than ever, but she was watching, gazing towards the naked sorceress as if frozen in a basilisk’s glare.
“Why don’t you join me?” asked Nyvara, her voice sultry, “there’s plenty of room on the carpet.”
Tinberly shook her head, evidently not risking speech, although her eyes did not leave the woman in front of her. She would have to be more direct.
Nyvara rose to her feet, and stepped towards the girl, still not making any sudden moves. Tinberly didn’t flinch or look away, and soon the sorceress was just inches away from her, standing so that her breasts hovered in front of the youngster’s face.
“We don’t need men,” she said, “not to keep ourselves amused. I am sure you’ve already found that, in bed alone at night. Haven’t you? This is no different.”
She bent down, kissing Tinberly’s forehead so lightly that she could scarcely feel it. The girl’s breaths were coming deeper, she could tell, but she still wouldn’t give in to her reaction.
“Don’t disappoint me,” she whispered, her hand brushing the thin and slightly damp fabric covering the slight mound of Tinberly’s breasts.
The girl gasped, and Nyvara stepped away, lying down on the carpet once more, and patting the space beside her. Tinberly stood, her expression a mixture of confusion and desire, and joined the sorceress. She lay there, motionless, apparently afraid to move a muscle, her delightful little chest rising and falling, her lips slightly parted.
The older woman rolled over onto her side, facing the teenager. She reached down to the hem of Tinberly’s shift and slowly lifted it, exposing first her tender young thighs, then her panties and the soft curve of her belly. She made an appreciative sound, and there was no deception in it. The girl was, indeed, beautiful, her skin creamy and enticing, her body fresh and unsullied. She might or might not be a virgin, but she had certainly never done anything like this before, and that made her the very best sort.
She caressed Tinberly’s thigh, making the girl shiver, and then reached up to her stomach, running her fingers along it, feeling the smoothness of her skin and the dampness of her sweat. She trailed her finger around the teenager’s navel, savouring the shape of it; Tinberly flinched at the first touch, but soon recovered, biting her lower lip, and slowly moving her feet to slip off her boots one at a time. Nyvara noticed that she dug her toes into the pile of the carpet, buttocks moving and crinkling the fabric of her panties as she did so.
The sorceress smiled to herself; the girl was clearly surrendering, allowing her to do whatever she wanted. She moved over, so that she was leaning over the teenager’s body, and moved a hand to the rucked hem of her shift, now lying just below the curve of the girl’s breasts. She stared into Tinberly’s brown eyes, her eyebrows raised questioningly. At first there was no response, but then the girl nodded, almost imperceptibly, still biting her lip. She was glad now that she had not used the potion – it was always better when they fell under your influence enough to agree to things of their own free will.
She lifted the shift up, exposing Tinberly’s breasts, then allowing her to raise her arms to slip the garment off and throw it away to one side. They were small but perfectly shaped, pale nipples pointed with desire, smooth skin glistening slightly with the sheen of sweat. Nyvara cupped one, making the girl squirm against the carpet with a sharp intake of breath. The sorceress bent over, her own large breasts draping against the teenager’s flanks, and pressed her lips to a nipple, sucking on it gently as she watched her partner’s expression.
Tinberly let out a squeak, a muffled cry of passion caught in her throat, and gasped to steady her breath. Nyvara stroked the eighteen year old’s breasts with her fingers, lapping at the sweat with her tongue, flicking each of her nipples in turn. The girl wriggled against the carpet, trying not to cry out, but not quite succeeding, pressing her dainty thighs close together, her fingers massaging the pile, yet not daring to stray close to the source of her delightful torment.
Nyvara moved her tongue lower, sliding over the soft skin of the girl’s stomach, dipping her tongue into the navel, savouring the feel of young skin against her lips. Her hands caressed Tinberly’s thighs, still pressed tight against each other, feeling the long shape of them as her kisses moved down to her partner’s hips.
She pulled the hem of the panties down, exposing the flare of her hips, dipping her fingers into the back to feel her rounded buttocks. Tinberly bit her lip again, and made a sight plaintive grunt.
“Come on,” whispered Nyvara, hands placed gently on the girl’s tightly pressed thighs, “you know how this has to be, don’t you? And you want it, I can tell. Let me see you, let me see all of you.” Tinberly parted her thighs just by an inch, but it was enough for the older woman to slide her panties off, and down over her calves to pool around her ankles. “There… that’s good, isn’t it?”
She stroked the girl’s mound, fingertips brushing the soft brown hair, feeling the inner angle of her hips. Her pussy looked inviting, vulnerable, so fresh and tempting. Nyvara moved her head in closer, blowing on it, cool air against the moisture of the teenager’s skin. Tinberly cried out at that, a quiet sound, but unmistakable in its desire. It was enough for the sorceress; she moved herself into position, lowered her head, and licked the girl’s pussy lips, probing between them with her tongue.
“Oh!” cried the girl, full voiced this time, her hips bucking involuntarily. When Nyvara didn’t stop, the teenager began to pant, her voice coming in short whimpers, her feet pushing against the carpet. She gripped Nyvara’s shoulder with one hand, touching her intentionally for the first time, and cried out “Oh, Goddess!” as the older woman reached her clit.
Tinberly’s hips ground into the thick pile beneath her, her back arching upwards as she grabbed her own breast with her other hand. Her pants were louder now, as she dug her fingers into Nyvara’s shoulder, her head thrown back, long brown hair in disarray around her.
The sorceress kept up the torment, pressing her tongue between the pink folds, rubbing now and then with her finger, moving in time with the motions of her partner’s hips. She could tell the girl was close to release now, and that was her cue to stop, and raise herself up onto her knees.
Tinberly gave out a puzzled sound, her lips forming a silent question. Seeing no response, she moved one of her own hands to her groin, evidently seeking to finish what the older woman had started. Nyvara grabbed first that hand, and then the other one, moving them away from the girl’s puffy and aching groin.
“Please…” the girl asked, her voice plaintive, speaking directly to the sorceress for the first time in quite a while.
Nyvara responded by adjusting her position so that she was kneeling over her, one leg on either side of the teenager’s body, ample breasts hanging down. “One good turn deserves another,” she said, “weren’t you taught that? I’ll finish in a little while… if you’re good.”
She shuffled up a little, her breasts now hanging directly in front of Tinberly’s face, lowering herself slightly, while still holding the girl’s wrists in each hand. She felt tender sweet lips brushing the skin, tentatively at first, and then with more conviction, and closed her eyes, savouring the feeling, taking another scrap of the girl’s innocence. Soon the lips had fastened on her nipple, tongue tickling the tip.
Nyvara moaned, grinding her hips against the girl’s belly, before moving herself upright. Now holding the teenager’s arms above her head, she moved her own pussy closer to that pretty young face. Young lips parted her pussy, tongue probing between her thighs, recoiling for a moment at the unexpected taste, then returning to their task as the sorceress thrust her hips slightly downward.
The girl’s motions were inexpert, but that very innocence was all the more enticing to the sorceress. She groaned loudly, releasing the girl’s wrists to massage her own breasts, grinding her hips into the teenager’s face.
“Oh, Tinberly!” she cried, deliberately using the girl’s name.
Moving quickly, she adjusted her position, turning round to face in the opposite direction. She lay across the girl’s body, pulling her legs urgently apart and fastening her lips and tongue on the eighteen year-old’s clit.
Seconds later, Tinberly cried out in orgasm, her soft cunt contracting against Nyvara’s face, her legs beating against the carpet. Nyvara pressed herself against her partner’s face, silently begging for the inexperienced girl to find her clit. She did, sucking eagerly, surrendering fully to pleasuring another woman. Nyvara let out a long, deep moan as she climaxed, curvaceous body rubbing against the younger one beneath her, lost to the overwhelming wash of pleasure.
──◊──
A silver bell rang in the room. “Mother!” cried out Tinberly, grasping in a panic for her clothes.
“No, that’s the door,” replied Nyvara, calmly, “Rolgor will get it, send them away. He’ll use an upstairs window; he won’t need to come down here.”
The bell rang again, and Nyvara frowned. The girl was getting dressed anyway, but she would have expected Rolgor to be doing something by now. After the third ring, the sorceress got to her feet, and, clad in nothing but her boots, went to the back entrance, heading up towards Rolgor’s room. The plan had been for him to give Elandra a harmless sleeping draught when he had finished, ensuring that Nyvara had enough time to seduce and enjoy the daughter, so surely by now there was nothing to keep the half-orc occupied.
Even before she reached the room, however, she could tell that that was not actually the case. Creaking and grunting sounds came from behind the closed door, accompanied by the rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh and then, clearly, Elandra’s voice.
“Yes, Rolgor, do it like that… don’t stop fucking me… oh, yes, squeeze my tits… give it to me hard…”
Tutting at what seemed a rather unexpected turn of events, Nyvara headed back downstairs to grab a black silk nightdress, and quickly strode towards the door, flipping the little hatch open.
She started back, as inhuman blood red eyes stared back at her. The eyes blinked, and suddenly attained a more normal, garnet, hue.
“Zarenis…” asked the sorceress, worried and puzzled by the unexpected appearance, “is that you?”
“It is… well, more or less. Something very strange has happened to me, and because of that… well, let us just say that I have something to offer you that you really won’t want to miss out on. In return for some assistance, naturally. Can I come in?”
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