“Wake up,” Ondy whispers to me urgently, and I crack my eyes open. The sun is just rising on the horizon, and I can hear what sounds like a wagon creaking our way.
“Who is it?” I ask, suddenly wary.
“Looks like some traders,” Thomas says without trying to hide his voice. He’s walking from the direction the sound of the wagon is coming from.
“How many?” I ask, concerned. Lately it seems if it’s not one thing, it’s another.
“Two women, and a couple of caravan guards,” he says easily, then eyes me sharply. “Listen, I don’t care what your name really is, but I don’t recommend you tell anyone else it’s Lyden Snow.”
“Why not?” I ask, but the wagon shows up, and I realize I’ll have to get my answer later.
“Ho!” Thomas yells to the traders, holding his hands out to show he means no harm.
The two guards, riding on some fine looking horses, approach the farmer, and glare down at him. Well, glare as much as two faceless men can.
“Oh, stop it you two. If you scare away our customers, we’ll never make any money on this trip,” one of the women says.
“And the first brigand that puts a knife in your ribs, will take any earnings you make,” the guard on the left states.
A slightly chubby woman gets down off her wagon, and approaches us. “That’s why we hired you. To protect us!” she states, not seeing the paradox in her words. “The name’s Deb, and my partner over there is Anny. Any chance we could talk you into buying a plate or some brandy?”
“How much for the horses?” Thomas asks, glancing at the fine steeds.
“They’re not for sale,” the guard that’s been doing most of the talking states angrily.
Thomas grabs the pouch of coins we’d taken off the bandit leader, and pulls a small golden disk out. “That’s a shame, because that’s all we need right now.”
Deb licks her lips as she looks at the golden coin, then to the bulk of the obviously full pouch. “Oh, give over! Anything’s for sale, if the price is right.”
“Greed will be your undoing, sister,” Anny states from her perch on the wagon.
“And that pious attitude will be yours, sister,” Deb replies in a manner that lets me know they’ve spoken these words often to each other.
Haggling begins, and in the end, we come away with two horses, and a saddlebag full of food. The acquired crossbow had been thrown into the mix, and I now have a nice water pouch hanging on my right hip.
Anny had tried to extol to us the virtues of living a clean life, but even Deb had grown tired of her preaching by the time we parted ways.
“I’m telling you,” Ondy states from her perch in Thomas’s lap, “You paid three times what these horses are worth.”
“It doesn’t matter,” the farmer grouses. “We got something that wasn’t for sale, with coins that weren’t really ours. Now are we still on the right track to find my daughter?”
Ondy grumbles under her breath, but examines the road in front of us.
“See the chip missing from that horseshoe imprint, or how that one is entirely missing its horseshoe? They were outside town back there, and I’m certain they have your daughter.” Thomas grunts and heels their horse to a trot.
I wonder if the old man will ever realize that the young woman is smitten with him?
We still haven’t caught up with this kidnapping lord by midday, but someone catches up with us.
“Are you the one claiming to be Lyden Snow?” A woman yells, approaching us on horseback. Her dark brown, nearly black hair is tied back in a ponytail, and her brown eyes are piercing as she glares at me. Other than her sharp eyes, she is the plainest looking woman I’ve ever seen.
“Dammit,” I hear Thomas curse, but I just turn the horse around and look at the woman.
“I might be. Why?” I ask, trying to keep my voice level.
“I’m Randa, and I’m sworn to kill you before you destroy our world!” Her horse charges for me, as she pulls her sword, ready to lop off my head.
Pulling my sword up, sheath and all, I deflect her blow just in time.
“Why are you trying to kill me?” I demand of the woman. “What’d I ever do to you?”
“You are what you are!” she screams as she brings her horse back around, charging at me again. “Lyden Snow is prophesied to destroy this world, and my sisters and I have sworn to kill you before that happens.”
That’s not right, I think. Something’s wrong with that. Before I can think more on it, however, she’s next to me, swinging her blade with deadly intent.
Free me! Let me taste her blood! Look at her; she wants to feel my caress against her neck and thighs. Free me, so that I may feed! Despite Muramasa’s urging, I keep him in his sheath.
Suddenly the violent woman stiffens and tips out of her saddle, a dagger in her back.
“Nice throw,” Thomas tells her. “Tell me, how did you get the aim just right?”
I blink at the two, trying to understand what’d just happened. Ondy had just killed a woman, and now both of them were acting as if it’s no big deal.
“It’s just a skill I have, when I’m behind someone the blade always sinks in,” the younger woman states.
Hopping down off my horse, I turn the woman who tried to kill me onto her back, and jump when she gasps for air. “Brother. . . . I’m coming.” Her eyes close, and for just a moment I think I might know her, but the feeling is fleeting and soon gone.
Ondy reclaims her dagger, taking Randa’s sword and mount, and we continue on our way.
“What’s the deal with my name?” I demand of Thomas as we plod down the road. “Why did she want to kill me?”
“Listen,” he tells me earnestly, “you’ve been a great help to me, so I won’t judge you, but there’s a legend that states that a man by the name of Lyden Snow will come to our world and destroy it. I always thought it was an old wives’ tale, but now I’m not so sure.” He refuses to meet my eyes as he talks, and I can see that Ondy is trying to listen while appearing not to. She could use some more practice at that. “If you really are our destroyer, then the only thing I really ask is that you wait until I have my daughter back in my arms.”
He snaps his reigns, pulling away from me, and I just sit there, stunned.
Kill them, before they kill you!
“Shutup,” I mutter out loud to the sword, not wanting to listen to its demands. I don’t want to destroy worlds. I just want to live. Is that too much to ask?
Not long after that, we come to another town, this one not much bigger than the last, though it does boast a sheriff’s office.
We tie our horses up just outside, and go in. Two deputies are sitting inside, both with faces, and I don’t know if I should be worried that they have faces, or relieved. Why can’t I think straight? One of the deputies is extremely short, with long light brown hair, and the other is a lithe woman with equally long blonde hair and blue eyes.
“We’re looking for a lord that might have come through here recently,” Thomas begins. “He would have had a woman with him, and some guards.”
“Ah, you must mean Lord Mark,” the short one says. “Yeah, they traded horses here late last night, and continued up to his castle.”
“Why are you after him?” the blonde asks.
“He stole my daughter, and I intend to get her back.” Thomas’s voice is firm and full of controlled anger. He now has a name and a target.
“That’s a pretty serious charge,” the short one says. “What do you think, Leese? Should we check it out?”
“Might as well, Becks. Nothing else is likely to happen, and I’ve been getting bored anyway.” Leese responds.
“Now wait a minute,” Thomas argues back, “We didn’t ask for help, just directions.”
The two deputies are already strapping on their swords. “If you plan to go up against Lord Mark, then you’re going to need all the help you can get,” Leese says calmly.
Why are they so willing to help us?
In the end, all five of us leave town, heading for the castle on the horizon.
The edifice is quite imposing as we come up to it. Black stones make up the towers, topped with solid black flags.
“Think the lord’s in a black mood?” I try to joke, lightening the atmosphere. My efforts fall flat.
No guards stand at the portcullis, and nobody can be seen as we work our way down blackened hallways, dimly lit with torches. The entire place feels creepy, and abandoned, other than footprints visible in the dust covering the floor.
We work our way deeper into the castle, feeling the oppressive mood of the place begin to seep into our bones, but Thomas refuses to stop until he has his daughter, and each of us pulls a measure of strength from him.
I don’t like this place, Muramasa states, and for the first time I hear fear in the sword’s mental voice.
Finally we come across a pair of massive wooden double doors, and we can hear voices on the other side.
Pushing through, we find a large, darkly tanned man sitting at the head of a long table. A golden chain leads from his left wrist to a collar around a young woman with golden hair and golden tinged skin. Even in this dour place, she seems to glow slightly, as if her presence is valiantly attempting to push back the evil of the place, but slowly failing. Two female guards flank their lord, weapons already drawn and ready.
“So I see you made it all the way here, Lyden,” the lord’s deep voice booms. “How have you enjoyed my little play? I must say, I’m impressed with how well you’ve handled yourself. You’ve only lost, what, two people? Of course, I don’t know that you could consider one of them a friend.”
“Lyden?” I hear Leese and Becks murmur at the same time in fear, but they draw their blades and prepare to defend themselves.
“We’ve been told that that lady is here against her will,” Leese shouts.
Lord Mark burst out in booming laughter. “Against her will?” He yanks on her chain, making the golden woman stumble. “Tell them, my pet. Are you here against your will?”
“No, my lord,” the girl’s dreamy voice comes out. It sounds like she’s speaking from a faraway place, instead of only a few feet away. She is obviously under a spell.
Why do I think she would look better with large butterfly wings? I shake my head to dispel the absurd thought.
“Release my daughter, fiend, or face my steel!” Thomas screeches, taking a ready stance.
Lord Mark chuckles for a second, before flicking his fingers at his two guards. “Kill them.”
I take a closer look at the two armed figures next to Lord Mark. One is clad in a supple blue material that looks serviceable and durable. In her hand is a long wavy blade that looks quite deadly. The other woman is clad in some sort of yellow and black animal skin that barely covers her ample parts. A long spear is clutched in her hands, and it looks like she knows how to use it.
“How will you handle this dilemma?” Lord Mark asks me, a wicked grin on his face. “Friends on both sides, all intent on killing each other. This should be fun.”
The woman in blue faces off against Ondy and Thomas, somehow able to deflect their combined efforts. It would probably help if the two had practiced together some, as they keep getting into each other’s way.
The Amazonian woman, meanwhile, brings her spear’s haft to bear down on the short Becks, but Leese’s sword intercepts it, saving her fellow deputy. Becks doesn’t hesitate at the sudden opening, slashing at the giant woman’s stomach. I’m certain the Amazon is going down, but she blurs, and is suddenly standing five feet further back, spinning her weapon in her hands.
Who do I help? Both groups are holding their own, and if I step in, I might get in their way. For some reason I can’t pin down, I’m extremely hesitant to fight anyone in here.
Except Lord Mark.
Pulling Muramasa from my hip, still sheathed, I approach the darkly tanned man.
“Do you really think you can take me on, generator?” The man asks, but I have no idea what he’s talking about. “I’ve been destroying ants like you for millennia.” He stands, and for the first time I see just how large this man is. If muscles had muscles, he’d be the steroid that pumped them all. The man is a mountain! He pulls a sword that’s nearly as tall as I am from behind his back, and then glances at the other two fighting groups. “Perhaps we should wait, and see how this turns out first.” He waves his hand at me, and every muscle in my body locks up, stopping me from any more movement. Twirling his finger, I find myself turning rigidly in place, until I can watch the other two groups, battling for their lives. dread fills me, as I realize how much power this man has, and how much I’m at his mercy.
I watch in horror as Thomas stumbles over Ondy’s outstretched leg, and the blue armored guard brings her sword down hard, nearly separating the older man’s neck from his shoulders. He collapses in a lifeless heap at Ondy’s feet. The thief goes berserk, wildly slashing at the guard. For a moment it looks as if the vigor and speed of her attacks will make up for her lack of skill, as she lands blow after blow. Unfortunately, each successful strike only causes minor damage, and Ondy begins to wear down from her efforts.
A grunt from Leese pulls my attention to that battle, and dismay fills me as the Amazonian strikes the blonde woman in the chest, knocking her back. Becks is holding her side, and I can see blood trickling between her fingers. Leese moves to Becks’s side, taking a defensive stance.
My friends are about to fall, and I’m frozen, helpless and impotent. Inner rage at my inability to act boils up in me, and I strain against my invisible bonds, but to no avail. Nothing is as strong as Lord Mark’s willpower.
Becks tries to gain her feet, but I watch as her face goes white, and she collapses to the ground, her life still seeping between her fingers. The Amazon woman goes in for the kill, and Leese moves to intercept, but is a moment too late. The spear shaft sinks deep into Becks’s side a split second before Leese’s sword lops off the Amazonian’s head.
“Becks, no!” Leese cries out, bending over her deputy, and checking for a pulse. Tears pour from her eyes when she doesn’t find one. Tears are quickly replaced with rage, as she stands and faces the other guard, in time to see Ondy take the blue armor-clad guard’s blade through her stomach, and fall next to Thomas.
The two remaining women face off against each other, attacks ringing out as sword meets sword. The blue-armored guard is the better fighter, but she’s slowed down by her many wounds. Blow after blow, parry after parry, the two women go back and forth, until the guard is able to put her blade into Leese’s right shoulder. The deputy drops her weapon from nerveless fingers, and tries to stumble away from the blow she knows will land next.
The guard delivers a mighty kick to Leese’s jaw, cranking her head to the side. The sound of her neck snapping is unmistakable.
“Bravo!” Lord Mark cries out, clapping his hands. “Bravo!” He walks over to his triumphant guard, and smiles down at her. Without warning, his sword arm comes up, and his guard collapses in two pieces, the blade severing her torso from her legs. The speed and ease with which he dispatches his own guard belies his prowess with the weapon.
I want to demand to know why he would kill his own servant, but my mouth refuses to function.
“We couldn’t let one of them survive, now could we?” he asks me mockingly. “Now we’re just down to you, me, and my newest little pet here,” his smile turns to Thomas’s daughter, but she doesn’t react. I can see that her eyes are glazed over, and feel sorry for whatever torments this monster has in store for her.
“Now, I believe you wanted to have a battle,” he says to me, waving his hand and I can feel control over my own body returned to me. “Draw your blade, little thing. I begin to grow weary of this game.” Despite his words, I can see laughter in his eyes.
I hate to do it, but I know I don’t stand a chance against this monster, unless I draw Muramasa from his sheath.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” the large man waves dramatically, but I know he is just being melodramatic, “What fun would this little fight be, without your true memories?”
Lord Mark snaps his fingers, and a searing lance of pain erupts behind my eyes. White encompasses everything, as the fog that has sat over my mind since waking up in this world, lifts. Memories, thoughts, and feelings flood through my system, and with dawning horror, I realize what’s happened.
Almost everyone I know is dead. Angela, Brooke, Becky, Lisa, Jennifer, Ondine, and even Thomas are all beyond my help now, manipulated and destroyed by Marchosias’s evil machinations.
Even Miranda’s death weighs on me, and she’d wanted to kill me in truth.
I don’t know when I fall to my knees, but as I stand back up and look at the four dead bodies around me, I have to fight hard not to be overwhelmed by despair.
Dead. . . . They’re all dead! All because I’d chosen to rescue a little fairy. The same fairy I’d been tricked into coming on this quest to rescue again. She’s still standing there, eyes glazed over, not even aware of what is going on.
“Shall we end our little play, Lyden Snow?” Marchosias asks me, laughter ringing in his baritone voice. “There are only two ways for you to return to the real world: take Arethusa’s maidenhead, or allow me to kill you. Should it be the latter, I will take her virginity and soul, enjoying every moment of it.”
Rage, hotter than any I’ve ever felt in the past suffuses my limbs, burning away my despair and replacing it with a purpose; kill Marchosias. He must answer for his crimes. No matter how skilled a warrior he is, I vow not to rest, until I destroy him.
Muramasa is free from his sheath in one swift motion, no longer willing to give myself a second thought on the consequences. My cursed blade crows in glee at his freedom. Yes! Feed me his soul! Let me devour him! Allow me to caress his soft skin.
“No!” the demon yells, backing away, and I can see fear enter into his eyes, his voice incredulous. I pay it no heed as I charge him. “How did you get that blade?” He barely deflects my first blow in time, Muramasa guiding my movements. “That isn’t supposed to be here! It was in my study.” My next blow comes within a hair of his shoulder, and the large man leaps back to get some breathing room. “Lyden, you must stop!” Desperation is in his tone now, as he continues to back away. I want nothing more than to press the attack, but Muramasa holds me in check, only allowing me to slowly approach. “This whole thing was a farce. A game! It isn’t—”
Muramasa frees me, and I charge forward, sword raised. I watch as the demon brings his blade up to block me, and suddenly I’m spinning, bringing my sword in low. Sparks fly as the demon uses his unnatural speed to deflect my strike. The sentient blade directs my every move, and I don’t even hesitate as he cries out for blood. Pressing the attack, I watch in glee as the evil creature before me truly begins to fear for his very existence. My blade will feast on his soul today, and while it won’t bring back my loved ones, it will at least be some measure of recompense.
Marchosias is speaking to me, pleading with me, but my blood pounds in my ears, and I can’t understand his words. His hands make the same gesture that’d frozen me in place earlier, but Muramasa somehow deflects the demon’s power.
Finally I draw blood, as my blade sinks deeply into the demon’s thigh. His howl of pain is sweet music to my ears, penetrating the blood rage that guides me.
The large monster waves his hand to something to my right, and I see something golden out of the corner of my eye. Spinning to destroy this new threat, I barely stop Muramasa from splitting Arethusa’s skull.
Kill her! Kill them all! my wicked blade sings in my mind, but I regain control over myself, and turn to face the demon.
He’s gone. Whether fled to the real world, or somewhere in this fantasy world, I’m not sure.
“Lyden?” a soft voice says near me, fear and worry in her tone. “Wh—what happened? Where are we?”
Muramasa continues to demand I kill her, but I resist, taking more effort than it should to do so. Seeing that there is blood on the blade, I shudder, and quickly sheath my sword. The original Lyden, the one I am again, knew nothing of this blade. The Lyden that Marchosias created for his entertainment knows how deadly this sword is.
I also know how cursed I am to have it in my possession, now that I’ve drawn it.
Muramasa cannot be sheathed unless he’s drawn blood. He will also stay with me until I go mad, killing everyone I know, before either killing myself in grief, or getting killed in turn.
I don’t know how wounded Marchosias truly is, but it’s less than he deserves for what he’s done.
Seeing Angela’s Amazonian head, the spear in Becky’s gut, and both pieces of Brooke. . . . Bending over, I empty my stomach of all its contents, unable to look at my friends and lovers anymore.
I don’t know how long I stay hunched over, nor when I passed out, but when I awaken, it’s Areth’s golden tinged cherubic face that greets me.
“Welcome back,” she says nervously, which is so very unlike her. There is tenderness to her now, which is new. I wonder if it’s an affect of Marchosias’s messing with our minds, or something else.
I try to turn my head to look around, realizing that I’m lying with my head in the pixie’s lap, but her hands grip my face, and forces me to look at her.
“No, don’t,” she tells me, and I feel fresh hot tears spring to my eyes. “Where are we, and how do we get home?” There is fear and worry in her tone, and I want to comfort her, and be comforted in turn.
“I don’t know,” I say, then remember something Marchosias had said. The mere thought of the demon makes my vision go red, and Muramasa begins to sing to me, but I fight it all down as I recall the dark-souled creature’s words. “Either I have to die, or. . . .” I trail off, remembering the rest. Or I take her maidenhead. I can’t do that to her. “I have to die.” I say, trying to cover my almost slip.
The fairy shakes her head though. “Or you have to take my maidenhead,” she states, already knowing the answer somehow. “I know the way demons think. He set this whole thing up to punish us. What worse punishment can there be, than watching your friends die, and then dying in futility, knowing there is nothing you can do. Or, if you actually did defeat the demon, you’d be stuck here, until I gave up my. . . . Well, either way, I’d be punished as well.”
I decide not to tell her what her fate would have been, had I lost to the demon. “I don’t understand?” I say, confused. “I mean, I understand if I take your virginity, but not about if I die. How does that punish you?” I ask.
Her slap against my face stings as much as it’s unexpected. Shoving me off her lap, she glares at me. “Are you really that dumb?” she demands, reminding me of when we’d first met. “Haven’t you figured it out, yet?” I can only blink at her in confusion. I try to look around, trying to find something to help me understand what her problem is, and only then notice that we’re no longer in the throne room. The fairy must have moved me while I was unconscious. “You really don’t know.”
“Know what?” I demand.
She shakes her head, and moves back over to me. “It doesn’t matter,” she tells me softly, and it’s at this point I conclude all women are crazy. “Lyden, you can’t die. You must fulfill the prophecy, or so many more will die. Giving you my most precious gift is a small price to pay, for saving so many lives.”
“Why should I care about all those other lives?” I demand almost angrily. I regret the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth, when I see the hurt in her eyes.
“Because you wouldn’t be the Lyden I know if you didn’t. Not all of your friends are dead,” she points out, and I want to yell that ‘Yes, they are!’
Sheila, AnnaBelle, and Debbie cross my mind. They’re still alive. At least, they will be if I can end this world.
I remember Miranda’s—or rather Randa’s—words here, about me destroying this world, and realize that they had been true. One way or another, this world will end, but it won’t kill everyone like she’d thought.
“But your soul!” I state, not willing to give up. “I can’t take that from you. I’d rather commit suicide to end this world, than do that to you.”
“I don’t think that will work,” she tells me sadly. “Marchosias would have wanted to ensure you made it all the way to the end. Only he can kill you, or you must take my maidenhead. There is no other choice.” Her slender hands hold my cheeks firmly, gazing deeply into my gray eyes. “As far as my soul, you cannot take what is freely given.”
“But—“ I try to protest some more, but her lips against mine cut me short. There is no passion or sorrow in this kiss, but simple tenderness. Our lips are the only parts of our mouths that are touching, but that is enough for me to understand that this is truly okay with her. She’s willing to chain herself to me for the rest of our lives, to save both our worlds.
Can I make any less of a sacrifice to save so many lives?
Pulling my head back, I look deeply into her golden eyes, cupping her chin. Funny how I’ve never noticed their rich color until now. Probably due to me being colorblind.
“Are you sure?” I have to ask one last time.
“Just be gentle,” she says, and I can see the determination writ across her face. “I still get a little uncomfortable sitting down after the last time.” She says it with a wry smile, but I can see how nervous she is.
Using my grip on her chin, I pull her face back to mine, kissing her softly. Her slender arms wrap carefully around my neck, and I lay us down on the hard rock ground. There are worse places to take a woman’s virginity, I suppose, but none come to mind at the moment.
Reaching down to the skirt of her yellow dress, I gradually begin to move it up. By the time I have it above her waist, our tongues are dancing in each other’s mouths. My hands discover that she isn’t wearing any undergarments, as I lightly begin to knead her buttocks. I feel her tense up at my intimate touch, but I don’t stop. I don’t go any further yet, either.
We continue to kiss like this for a bit, until I feel her relax. Letting go of her rear, I start moving her bright dress up her body some more, until it’s just under her chest.
Her head pulls back, as she bites her bottom lip in thought. We stare at each other, knowing that it isn’t necessary to remove the dress, but also knowing it’s something I desire.
Suddenly deciding, she grips the bottom of her clothing, and yanks it up over her head. Her perfectly formed breasts sit firm and high on her chest, no sag to them at all. “Might as well do it all the way,” she states, that wry smile still on her pretty face.
I raise my hands to her sides, and easily roll us over. It takes me a second to get my leather jerkin off, and then even longer to undo the ties to my pants.
She gasps as my cock springs free, even though this isn’t the first time she’s seen it. This is the first time that she’s had a say in whether or not she’s going to allow it into her body.
“You promised to be gentle,” she reminds me, her eyes never leaving my one-eyed monster.
“I promise to be gentle,” I tell her solemnly. “I promise to be gentle. I promise to be gentle.” She laughs slightly, finally looking up to meet my eyes, as I make the promise three times.
“Thrice sworn, and done,” she quips, nodding.
“Thrice sworn,” I agree, looking at the beautiful fairy, minus her wings. I can see her skin is flushed, and her breathing is a little heavy from her nervousness. I’m going to have to get her to relax, if we’re going to get this done with minimal pain for her.
She jumps guiltily, as I gently touch her right foot. Slowly, I caress it with my fingers, paying careful attention to the undersides of the toes, and the delicate arch. Using the backs of my fingernails, I tickle my way up her calves, and guiding her tiny digits to my mouth. Despite her nervous nature, she lets out a slight moan as the tip of my tongue brushes against her big toe.
Our eyes meet as I suck all five of her dainty toes into my mouth at once. “I still think you’re a pervert,” she tells me, her voice sultry, and I know she’s relaxing if she can crack jokes.
“What can I say?” I taunt her back. “You seem to bring it out in me.”
Her only response is to close her eyes, and moan, as I move my kisses up her calf. My hands move to her thighs, and she tenses again, but I wait until she relaxes, before moving my gently sucking lips up to her knees. At this point, I’m able to make out just how wet her nether-lips are, as her sweet nectar is visibly flowing.
Despite her obvious arousal, I can still sense her trepidation, and take my time, massaging her thighs, and then moving to her other foot, and repeating the process all over again.
This time when my lips brush against her inner thighs, a low moan escapes her lips, and she opens up wider for me. Taking the invitation for what it is, I trace the tip of my tongue up her sensitive thigh, to her outer labia. I gently suck on the thick outer lips, and marvel that she’s starting to swivel her hips.
Taking the tip of my tongue, I carefully place it at the bottom of her hole, and slide it in, getting my first taste of her tangy twat.
She has a minor orgasm after so much tension and build up, and I lap up her flowing fluids as they come from her virgin hole.
When she relaxes from her peak, I begin to explore more of her vagina, using my tongue to swirl about her inner labia for a time, until I go in for the sensitive nub at the juncture of her labia minor.
Her slender fingers dig into my hair at this point, urging me on, and I know I have won her over to this point. As a reward, I suck hard on her clit, nibbling just slightly with my teeth, and just that quickly, she’s flooding my mouth with her liquids. The energy from her soul floods into me at the same time, and I begin to feel more rejuvenated, after this haphazard adventure.
This time I don’t wait for her to relax, before diving up her body, and fitting the head of my cock between her lower lips.
Her eyes open wide in shock, but her pelvis is still gyrating from her orgasmic bliss, and she gives me a slight nod, letting me know she’s ready.
“This is going to hurt,” I tell her gently. “For that, I am truly sorry.”
“More than you know,” she says, her eyes closed, ready for the moment.
She’s right, I realize. She’s about to lose more than her hymen; she’s about to lose her soul.
This thought sobers me for a second, and when I don’t plunge directly into her, she opens her eyes, and stares at me. “What’s wrong?” she asks, worry reflected in her voice and golden eyes. “Am I not pretty enough?”
The question catches me off-guard, and I blurt the answer, before I think about it. “No! I mean, yes! Er, I mean, you’re gorgeous. I just. . . . I just worry about you.”
To my surprise, she blushes deeply, a tinge of red touching her golden cheeks. “Just hurry up and get it over with, Pervert,” she tells me, and I know it’s all bluster, by the way her hips are still moving against me.
Lowering my face to hers, our lips meet, and I simultaneously thrust hard with my hips.
Her cry of pain is muffled by our kiss, as I rip through the thin flesh of her maidenhead, destroying it, and binding us together for the rest of our lives. The whole world seems to . . . well, I don’t know how better to say it, than it tilts. All my senses seem to be doubled, but not quite right or in sync. I can feel the solid rock floor beneath my hands, but somehow also on my back. My chest is heaving, and I seem to be pulling in twice the normal amount of air. My eyesight is fuzzy, and our kiss feels like I am trying to wrestle with an extra tongue. The feeling of her warm, wet pussy rippling around my throbbing penis is juxtaposed, with a sharp pain somewhere between my balls and my belly button.
It’s this pain that finally clears my head enough to realize that we are sharing each other’s sensations. The kissing feels weird, because I’m feeling my own tongue in return. I now know the pain of a woman losing her virginity, and sincerely hope to never feel its like again.
We hold together, frozen for a few moments, waiting for our senses to sort themselves out. After a number of tense heartbeats, I feel her start to relax beneath me, and our joined consciousness begins to separate.
“That was intense,” I breathe, careful not to move my still hard member.
“Not what I expected, either,” she tells me, her chest heaving and flushed.
“Is that it then?” I ask, wondering if that was all we needed to do. Looking around us, I have our answer.
“He likely wants us to take this to completion,” she says. Her tone sounds sad about the idea, but her hips move against me, belying her attitude. “I’m sure a pervert like you will be up to it?”
Despite her joking attitude, I still worry about her, and hold still, until she pulls my head down to meet hers, and kisses me passionately.
Tenderly, I move my hips, trying to match her rhythm. Despite the fact that my rod has shrunk to conform to her inner walls, she’s incredibly tight! Every centimeter that I slip out sends new waves of pleasure through me, only to be outdone as I slide back into her grasping hole.
Soon, I’m moaning in delightful pleasure, and have to break the kiss. She moans in frustration as I try to catch my breath, until I hunch my back, and latch onto one of her small nipples. She pulls me tighter to her breast, and I pick up my momentum, driving into her with slightly increasing vigor, until I can feel my own culmination coming.
Changing my angle slightly, I lift my left hand off the floor, and twiddle her right nipple between my fingers. When her vagina tightens and she screams out in pleasure, I’m sent over the edge, and fire my load deep into her hungry canal, my whole body shuddering from the paroxysms of bliss.
As I finally regain control over my body, I am only slightly away of the rock floor turning to carpet, and the fairy under me, shrinking back down to her four inches of height. Thankfully, my phallus is well out of her, before she’s too small to handle it. Although it usually conforms to almost any size, I really doubt it can shrink that small.