The Ring of Power

By Eriador III

PART I • PART II • PART III • PART IV • PART V

Chapter One: Blackwood

He could still hear it stalking him.

He crouched behind the tree trying to catch his breath. His heart beat with fear as he heard the creature drag its bulk through the trees. He only had a few moments before the thing caught his trail.

Mercyn took a moment to look at his dagger, the lone weapon he still had as the others were still embedded in the creatures thick hide. The blade of his knife was covered in a sticky black substance that passed for the blood of the monster that trailed him. He took a moment to wipe the blade on the moss that grew at the base of the tree and then launched himself from his hiding spot, driving deeper into the forest.

The locals referred to it as Os Saloes da Sombra in their own language but Mercyn's people had long referred to it with a less elegant name, the Blackwood. Legends abounded as to the denizens of the forests. One of Mercyn's favorites was of the old man who lived forever and could change his shape into a beast. Most of the other stories centered around faeries and dragons and dreadful orcs. Always the hero of the stories stood victorious over his foul foes, defeating them and gallantly saving the damsel in distress. Mercyn smiled grimly, wondering what one of those heroes would have done if they faced the creature that even now hunted him. Probably the same thing he was doing, running for his life.

He hadn't gone far before he heard the bellow of the monster, signifying that he had recaptured the man's trail. Despite the size of the monster and its apparent lack of speed, Mercyn knew from horrible experience that the creature could move with incredible speed. As if in answer to that memory, the oozing slash across the man's leg began to throb through the haze of adrenalin. Mercyn pushed aside all weariness and began to run with all the speed his tortured body could muster. Branches reached out at him clutching at his face and his clothes. Roots and bushes lunged out at him, trying to trip him as he dodged through the underbrush. Several times he fell, adding another layer of bruises to his body and creating another set of slashes across the exposed portions of his flesh. Each time he stood again and continued to run, but the bellowing of the beast came closer and closer, ever gaining ground as if the forest were no imposition to it at all.

Mercyn burst through a thick hedge of bushes, the monster close enough that he could here the low rumbling sound it made as its huge legs trampled the earth beneath it. He imagined he could feel the creature's hot breath on the back of his neck, he imagined that he could sense the monster's fell gaze on his fleeing back. Desperately he began to try to visualize a way he could escape the beast or, at the very least, a place where he could fight back and at least earn a warrior's death. He was so distracted by the fear of the beast and his thoughts of escape, that he didn't notice the gully until his foot came down on earth that was several feet lower then he expected.

The gully was not very deep, but it was enough to throw the overbalanced man head over heels, tumbling twenty feet down the rugged slope to land sprawling at the bottom of the gully.

A sharp spike of pain in his left angle told Mercyn that his ankle was broken or at the very least severly sprained. He rolled over onto his back and felt agony rip through his right side. His hands clutched at the hilt of his dagger that had managed to embed itself in his side during the fall. He grasped the hilt and, with his rapidly failing strength, pulled the blade free. Blood gushed from the wound and with it the remainder of the warrior's strength. He slumped back on the ground and waited as the life rushed out of him.

That was how the monster found him, exhausted and resigned to death. The creature caught sight of the dying man and paused at the top of the gully. It was huge. Mercyn estimated that it was nearly fifty feet long and its shoulders stood higher than a man. It stalked through the underbrush like a giant centipede, with over a dozen legs on either side, each the width of a moderate-sized tree trunk and each muscled with an ungodly strength. The beasts body was covered in a dull black fur. The fur was long and unruly, the creatures natural habitat had contributed to numerous twigs and leaves getting trapped in the unruly mess. Beneath the fur, the creatures hide was thick and as hard as stone. Twice Mercyn had hacked the creature with his sword, both times the weapon had rebounded with force, nearly pulling the man's shoulders from their sockets. The skin was created from several plate-like configurations, each put together like a piece of a puzzle. Mercyn had tried to shove his sword between two of the plates, and while it did seem to cause the beast some sort of pain, he had succeeded only in trapping his weapon in the monster's side.

The truly horrifying aspect of the creature was its head. Stuck on the end of a long, sinuous neck, the beast's head was dominated by a huge mouth. Acidic saliva seeped between several rows of horrifyingly sharp teeth. Two fangs protruded from the front of the upper jaw, each fang being as long as a man's arm. A vile green ichor dripped from the fangs and sizzled when it hit the ground. So far Mercyn had been able to avoid that mouth, but the things head moved with terrifying speed and dodging had not been easy. Above the massive jaws were set a row of three eyes. The outer two eyes were segmented like an insect's. From his experience, Mercyn knew that these eyes gave the creature a nearly supernatural peripheral vision. He had been able to disable the monster's leftmost eye with his dagger but his reward had been the jagged slash in his thigh. The center eye, was horribly human and twice as large as the others. Once Mercyn had caught the gaze of that giant red pupil and had nearly become entranced by the depths therein. Only a massive exertion of willpower had pulled his eyes away from that trap, moments before the creature had crushed him with its massive body.

Now the beast had the man trapped. It stood at the top of the gully and raised the front part of its body in a mock salute of the fallen warrior. It raised its head towards the sky and let forth a loud roar tinged with an inhuman joy. The neck then came down and the center eye focused on its fallen prey. Mercyn marshalled the remainder of his strength and met the creature's hungry gaze. He could almost imagine that the monster was smiling.

The creature swung its head from side to side, examining the gully. Mercyn copied the response, trying to get a sense of his immediate environment. The warrior found that he had not fallen all the way to the bottom. He had come up short of the bottom, having slid to a stop against a pile of rotting and moss-covered logs. About ten feet further down the slope, a small stream burbled through the gully. Mercyn watched with a detached sense of irony as a rivulet of his own blood even now merged with the stream, creating little clouds of blood and dirt mixing in the stream. In either direction the gully continued to wind its way through the forest, quietly escorting the stream on its path. The far slope of the gully was similar to the first, a steep slope of dirt and mud speckled with brush and dead trees, but it extended nearly twenty feet higher then the ground on the near side.

Satisfied that the gully contained no hidden dangers the monster returned its gaze to the prone human beneath it. It took a tentative step forward onto the slope, meaning to approach the warrior. The first two of its mighty legs set onto the slope, sending dirt and rock tumbling down the slope and banging against the human. When the second set of legs landed on the slope, a large part of the slope itself came loose and slid down the slope. Reacting with inhuman speed, the monster shifted its weight to its back legs and reared up into the air one more time, this time pulling back from the gully and the dirt slide. The sliding earth collided with Mercyn, pouring a mass of dirt into his lungs and stinging rocks into his open wounds. When the dust cleared, he realized that the monster could not reach him in the gully, at least not without risking itself losing its balance and sliding down the hill.

The creature realized this also and had regrouped at the top of the slope. It locked its center eye on the man below and Mercyn felt a wave of disorientation wash over his consciousness and a voice that was not his own invaded his mind.

"COME TO ME"

The words echoed in his brain, reverbrating through the pain induced haze. Before he knew what he was doing, Mercyn was on his hands and knees and was crawling up the slope and into the gaping maw of the monster. A stab of pain in his side managed to pierce the monster-induced haze and gave him a moment of clarity. Using the false strength imbued by the monster's call, Mercyn turned his movements and managed a controlled slide the rest of the way down the gully, ending with a splash in the tiny brook.

"COME TO ME. COME TO ME."

The creatures words still echoed in his brain, but the pain had formed a wall, apportioning off part of his brain and relegating the call to the outer recesses. The stream was very small and very shallow, perhaps a couple feet wide and never deeper than several inches. The ward was very cold, though, and quickly seeping through Mercyn's boots, adding to his general discomfort. He ignored it, just as he ignored the persistent call of the monster.

The urge to survive was now gaining strength inside him and he reached for a bush on the far slope and began to pull himself up the hill and away from the beast.

The creature's voice exploded in his mind as the beast let out a piercing scream of unrequited rage. Unnatural pain pieced Mercyn's physical discomfort and wrapped the man's mind with a blanket of agony. The pain receded as he was verging on passing out, the receding voice stealing away the remainder of the false strength, leaving him stripped bare with only his urgent desire to live empowering his muscles.

He continued to climb the slope as the monster raged behind him. Watching its prey escape caused the creature to continue its violent bellows of rage. When the fleeing figure had nearly reached the top of the far slope rage overcame good sense in the monster and it plunged down into the gully, pursuing its prey. The ground quickly came loose beneath the beast and its great weight threw it off balance and sent it tumbling into the gully, rolling to a stop at the bottom, completely disrupting the stream.

Mercyn was most of the way up the far slope when he felt the ground shake from the force of the beasts fall. He clutched at a small bush as the slope around him trembled, the dirt coming loose around him and starting to slide back into the gully.

Mercyn paused to marshal his strength and looked back over his shoulder and down at the creature. The monster had slid into a heap directly beneath him and was a jumble of flailing legs as it worked to right itself. A loud roar issued from the creature and echoed through the gully. Mercyn turned away and reached for another bush to resume his climb. His hands clutched the plant but, as he shifted his weight away from the other bush, the plant came free, tearing out of the ground. Wildly, he grabbed for the other bush but his hand encountered air as he began to slide down the hill.

As he slid, Mercyn rolled onto his back and watched as he plummeted towards the monster at the bottom of the gully. He scrambled for a hand-hold to stop his slide but his weakened body was unable to do anything but slightly slow him down.

The monster below was unaware of its prey's slide as its focus was on righting itself. The man was only a few feet away when it became aware of his approach and the creature raised its vile head to spy the human.

Mercyn had a horrible vision of sliding directly into the beast's jaws, but when the monster lifted his head, it allowed the human to slide beneath the creature's head and towards the scrambling mass of its body. As he slid beneath the beast's jaws as flash of burnished gold caught his eye and in terrified desperation he reached out and grasped the hilt of his sword, which still was imbedded in the monster's neck.

They say that fear can exhort a man to extreme exhibits of strength and this was proven true as terror induced strength flooded Mercyn's hands and hardened his grasp on the protruding weapon, bringing his slide to a halt just short of the stamping mass of the creature's legs.

The beast raised its head to the sky when it felt the human grasp the imbedded blade, attempting to fling the human clear. Mercyn held on with desperate strength and managed to swing himself onto the monster's shoulders, resting himself between the protruding spines on the monster's back. Quickly the beast's head whipped around on the sinuous neck and tried to snap its jaws around the warrior. Mercyn jerked away as the teeth snapped inches from his face. A drop of the green ichor from the fangs landed on his cheek and added a small burning sensation to the overall landscape of pain that wracked his body.

A cramping at his hip brought his attention back to his side, where somehow he had managed to keep possession of his dagger. While holding on with one hand, he reached down with the other and brought the dagger back up near his face. When the creature's maw struck a second time, he slashed with his knife, but the beast whipped its head away with astounding speed.

Strength was quickly becoming a thing of the past as the creature continued to try and shake the warrior loose while simultaneously striking with its vicious jaws. Desperation took control of the warrior's body and he shifted his weight, preparing himself to leap. When the head whipped around again, Mercyn leaped, attempting to clear the creature's jaws. Amazingly he succeeded and landed on the ridge of bone directly above the monster's upper jaw.

The monster quickly whipped its neck in the air to dislodge the human. As he felt himself fly up into the air and come loose from the beast, Mercyn grasped his dagger in both hands and plunged it into the creature's central eye, driving it deep into the beast.

A piercing scream, accompanied by the return of the horrible mind blast of pain, sounded through the forest and the creature began to swing its head wildly from side to side. Mercyn held on desperately to the dagger and used the momentum of the creature's head to drive the dagger deeper into the eye and into the monster's brain.

The screaming became louder, the thrashing became wilder and the mind blast became stronger as Mercyn drove the blade deeper. Both his arms were now elbow deep in the creatures destroyed eye, the black blood was boiling out around his arms, the warmth of the liquid numbing his arms. Blood fountained from the wound, more than a little splashing the warrior in the face and washing into his mouth and nose. But with a single-mindedness that had long lost any thoughts other than killing this monster, Mercyn drove the blade deeper, until he felt his hands and his blade pierce the softness of the creature's brain. Then his strength gave out and, with a jerk, he felt himself let go of the dagger and come free of the beast.

A surreal sensation of falling from a long distance wrapped his mind as he flew through the air, and then he smashed into the ground. The creature's agony had reached a crescendo and the beast's roar had reached levels that could not be heard by human ears. The mind blast from the dying monster was also at its peak and it wrapped the human completely in its grasp, overwhelming all sense of self. Pain became Mercyn's only companion as he felt darkness reach across his mind and finally envelop him in the mercy of unconsciousness.

* * * * *

Sometime in the future the curtain of darkness parted for the warrior, revealing a misty, dream-like glade. A haze had settled over his mind and he viewed the sun dappled meadow with a detached peace and a sense of joy. He had no memories of pain or anger and his body felt strong. He could hear the sounds of the glade and of the forest around it, but the noises were those of life and of peace and reached the warrior as if from a great distance.

He lay in the middle of the glade and next to a small flowing stream. The trickling sounds of the spring as is flowed through the rocks echoed of another stream, but just as the memory started to come back and with it a desperate surge of fear, a soft shove, as if from a pillow wielded by soft hands, pushed the memory and the fear aside and once again enveloped the man in a wave of peace and happiness.

He felt a soft hand caress his thigh and he suddenly realized that he was naked. He gazed at his body and marveled that his body seemed to be strong and undamaged and something in his brain shouted that this was wrong, but the soft haze returned and drove away that disparaging thought.

The hand that caressed his thigh moved to his groin and gently stroked his manhood, which quickly became hard. The soft hand was tiny, perhaps the size of a child and was attached to an equally small arm. His eyes traced the arm upward until he met the eyes of a small girl. She was small, probably only about 4 feet tall and she was thin but not unpleasingly so. Her hair was long and brown and seemed to have twigs and leaves twined through its tresses in intricate designs. Her hair flowed around her shoulders framing small but perfectly formed breasts, each of which was topped by a small, chestnut-colored nipple. Her skin was a light brown color and was smooth as silk. The most striking part of this vision were her eyes. Her pupils were solid brown and when his eyes met hers a flowing sense of love and of lust surged through his blood.

She smiled softly and whispered words to the man. He could not make out her words as they seemed to be nothing more then mumbles issued from far away, but he smiled anyway in response, not wanting to offend this beautiful creature. Her hand had continued to travel along the length of his hardended cock and when he smiled at her, her hand stopped and clutched with a soft, warm strength. She giggled in glee and she moved her mouth to his hardness. Even through the haze he could feel the heat of her breath as he tongue flicked out to touch the tip of his cock. The feeling was raspy yet exciting and urgent desire flooded his loins. She raised her head and smiled mischieviously at the man. Then she returned her gaze to his cock. She opened her mouth and enveloped the head of his manhood in her mouth.

Warmth poured through his cock as she forced the head into her mouth, her raspy tongue eliciting surges of pleasure as it traced the tip of his penis. She pushed her mouth down further, swallowing more of his manhood. She could only encompass two or three inches of his cock, leaving another five or six inches exposed. Her soft hands wrapped around this remainder and, using both hands, she pumped up and down on his penis.

When she had reached as deep as she could, he could feel the tip of his cock touch the back of her throat. Then she pulled her head back, gently scraping the underside of his cock with her teeth. When she reached that sensitive point just beneath the head of his manhood, the sensation that wracked his body sent a shiver up his spine.

Her mouth reached the tip of his cock and then plunged back down taking him in until the head of his penis again encountered the back of her throat. She repeated this process, gaining speed and beginning to apply suction as her pace increased.

The man laid back, staring into the canopy of trees that ringed the glade, reveling in the sensations of pleasure that issued from his groin. He raised his head and watched the girl as she continued to pump his cock with her mouth and her hands. He was amazed at how his cock stretched her mouth as she worked, driving deep into the girl's soft throat. He raised his arm and wound his hand through the girl's hair. It was soft yet stringy reminding him of the tiniest branches of a tree, the ones that flowed like leaves in a strong wind. He caressed the back of her head as she continued to bob up and down on his penis.

Pleasure flooded his body and he could feel the onset of his orgasm. He grasped the back of her head and simultaneously thrust himself up into her mouth, driving another couple inches of his cock into her throat. He felt her gag momentarily but as it passed she joined his efforts to push more of himself down her throat. His cum boiled in his cock as he reached that point of no return. He reveled in the feelings of that moment before his cum erupted from his cock but you knew that the moment was inevitable. In this moment, a man is at his happiest and even though it was fleeting, he held as much of the feeling as possible inside him, turning it around in his mind and enjoying every moment of it.

His semen spurted into her throat, the first surge containing an unexpected rush of strength, catching the girl be surprise. She pulled the cock from her throat, applying suction to the penis as the cum continued to spurt forth, but keeping the head lodged in her mouth. She began to sweep her raspy tongue along the broad head of his penis and continued to swallow his come. Her tongue began to create an intense wave of pleasure that swept through his groin. A moan escaped his lips as her tongue continued to bathe his penis. His cum had stopped boiling from his cock but her tongue continued to pleasure the ultra-sensitive tip of his penis.

The wave of pleasure continued to build, the pressure and excitement reaching a nearly unbearable level. Her tongue moved faster as the pressure built. Pleasure like he never imagined began to invade his mind, wiping out a thoughts of self and all memories of despair. Eventually, he reached a moment where the pleasure began to turn into pain and, as if reading his mind, she stopped the feverish stimulation of the head of his penis and ran her tongue lightly along the underside of the head. The quick change of pace and the feathery touch of her tongue pushed him over the edge and another, larger orgasm, burst from his loins. The feelings were intense and pushed his consciousness away and he returned to darkness.

Some time later the darkness again parted, revealing a similar picture as the time before. This time it was night in the glade and the moon peaked through the leaves of the forest and wreathed the hazy glow of the meadow with a soft white light. The girl was there also, but this time she sat astride him, rubbing the warm wetness of her crotch against his already hard penis. The moonlight enhanced her unearthly beauty and her eyes sparkled with starlight and entranced the man beneath her.

The warmth was amazing as she continued to rub herself up and down the length of his cock as it pressed against his stomach. He could see the veil of pleasure cover her eyes as her breath became shorter. Faster and faster she moved, sliding back and forth, her breaths coming quicker as her clitoris rubbed the staff of his cock. Her gaze dropped from his and her eyes closed in pleasure. He could feel her womanly juices seep along the sides of his cock, announcing her eagerness and her desire. The feelings were starting to penetrate his mind also as she continued to move. When it reached a certain point he could not stand it anymore and he grabbed her by her tiny hips and stopped her movements.

She was extremely light as he lifted her off his cock. Her eyes opened and met his with a deep gaze dripping with desire. She smiled as she read his intentions. She reached down and lifted his cock, pointing it straight into the air. Her crotch was covered in a light layer of downy brown hair and he could see he small lips and her throbbing clitoris shaded a deep red from the delicious friction against his penis. She pointed the head at the entrance to her dripping pussy and he lowered her down, the head of his penis entered the warm, wet entrance.

She was extremely tight as her womanhood wrapped around his cock, but she was so excited that his hardness had no trouble penetrating her depths. Her small, lithe body quickly slid down the entire length of his cock, coming to rest with the hair of her groin mixing with his own. They both paused for a moment when she reached the base of his manhood, both of them inhaling the pleasure and reveling in the moment. The man could feel her warmth completely enveloping him. Her muscles spasmed around his length as a tiny orgasm shuddered through her body. After a moment she began to move up his length. He carefully held the softness of her tiny hips and aided her movements, adding his strength to her motions. Up and down she began to move, sliding his cock in and out of her warmth. The stickiness of her liquids sheltered most of his exposed cock from the coolness of the night but the occasional draft of cool air on his penis heightened the sensations of warmth when her body again descended upon his.

The muscles just inside the entrance to her pussy continues to pulse as she moved. Her eyes were closed as her pace increased, her breath was short and soft moans of pleasure issued from her throat. The man continued to help her move up and down his length but he could feel the trembling of her tiny body as orgasm after orgasm wracked her body.

He could feel the building of his orgasm, the first faint echoes of a future pleasure began to gain strength in her groin. As the girl's pace increased, so to did the pleasure bulid. He could feel the strength begin to grow and his own pace on her hips increased until he was slamming her down onto his body with increasing strength. His desire did not seem to disturb the girl but merely caused her gasps of pleasure to become louder and come with more frequency.

He nearly reached that point of no return when the girl abruptly pulled herself from his grasp, releasing his cock and allowing it to land against his stomach with a wet slap. The coolness of the night came as somewhat of a shock, causing the man to gasp in surprise and open his eyes to meet her mischievous grin.

The girl stood and turned around, facing his feet. Surges of desire flooded through his brain as he watched the smoothness and the sheer beauty of her figure silhouetted in the light of the moon. The girl straddled his hips again and bent down lowering herself towards his cock. He grasped his manhood and raised it up. She grabbed the tip and pushed his hand away. She rubbed the tip against the entrance to her pussy, bathing it in her liquids and sending surging bolts of pleasure once again shivering through his body. He arched his body, trying to push himself into her depths, but she deftly moved away, keeping only the tip pressed against her labia.

Finally, she moved the tip down to the small, puckered entrance to her rectum. Surprise quickly followed by lust washed over the man as she pushed the tip of his cock past the entrance to her ass. The first sensation he felt was the sheer tightness of her ass as his cock tried to force its way past the tight entrance. Accompanying the tightness was the sheer heat of her body, an erotic juxtaposition to the coolness of the night.

She encompassed the head of his penis in her ass before it would push no further. She paused for a moment, letting herself adjust to the size of his cock. Then she lifted herself slightly and then pushed herself down further, swallowing another inch of his cock inside her backside. Briefly the man considered helping her force herself down on him but the aching warmth of her ass and the brilliant sensations of the tight muscles were quickly draining all his strength. She moved up again and then pushed down further taking in yet more of him.

She continued the process, each time another inch disappeared. The tightness of her ass was incredible and momentarily the man despaired that it would force the blood from his penis and drain the strength of his hardness. That despair was quickly defrayed as the sight of his thick penis splitting the tiny ass of the girl turned him on beyond anything he had ever seen before, eliciting his penis to even greater standards of hardness.

Eventually she managed to imbed his entire cock inside her tiny ass. When she had bottomed out she did not even pause to let herself recover but she began to move herself up and down the entire length of his hardness. Faster and faster she began to move, the tightness of her sphincter dancing along the length of his cock. She arched her back and set her arms behind her on the ground to support her weight and her long, soft hair draped down on his chest. From this position she set her feet and began to rapidly pound her body up and down on his cock, slamming his cock deep into her ass with each stroke.

Small moans of pleasure mixed with tiny gasps of pain were wrenched from her throat as his hardness penetrated her tiny ass repeatedly. The sounds worked their way into his brain and mixed with the sensations of his own pleasure, heightening his desire.

Quickly he felt his orgasm build and then erupt, sending his body convulsing as he lost control of all his muscles, his entire being focused in the surging tip of his cock.

The first surge of his cum was sprayed deep into her ass followed quickly by the second. She stopped pounding when she felt the flood of his semen deep inside of her, holding herself poised above him, half of his cock buried in her ass. She paused a moment to allow the first few spurts to empty inside of her rectum. Then she quickly leaped up pulling herself off of his cock and taking the cock into her hand.

One spurt of semen flew wildly into the air landing in a warm pool on his chest. Another spurt caught her in the face as her mouth descended on the tip of his cock. Her throat captured the rest of his semen as her tongue again began to rub along the tip of his cock. The familiar feelings from this activity continued to build until finally he passed out again.

It was daytime when the curtain parted again. His gaze was quickly drawn to the girl as she bathed in the tiny stream next to his naked form. She smiled when she noticed that he was awake and she asked him a question. Again he could not make out her words as they seemed to be as quiet as the wind rippling over a grassy plain. He strained to catch her question but it seemed to float beyond his grasp. So again, in response, he pushed himself onto his elbows and smiled.

She seemed to find this response amusing and she giggled and splashed water towards his reclining form. As the cold droplets splashed onto his skin, the image of the girl playing in the water wakened a buried memory, a memory that started with love but ended with unendurable pain. The soft pillow of haze woke in his mind and tried to push the pain away, but it something in his mind clutched the pain and refused to let it go. Somehow he knew that this pain was his and it was part of his very being. He dived into the memory. A beautiful woman swam, laughing, in a river, jeering at him as he stood on the shore. She swam towards him and stepped from the river, water cascading from her body. He laughed as he grabbed her and wrapped her in his arms. He lifted her up and swung her around in his arms, shouting his pleasure. Then she slid down into his arms and pressed her cold lips against his, drawing on their warmth to warm her own. Her tongue wormed its way insistently into his mouth, playfully attacking his tongue.

Then the memory turns dark as the woman suddenly stiffens in his arm, a startled exhalation of surprise issuing from her lips. A warm liquid touched his hands as they held her body. With rising fear he move his hands up her spine until he encountered the arrow that protruded from her back. Her body went slack in his arms and the life quickly fled from her body.

"NO!"

And with that scream something snapped in his brain and the haze was quickly tossed aside. Suddenly he was Mercyn again, and instead of being wrapped in a state of euphoric pleasure, he was once again a man in a dangerous forest, except this time he was naked and he was accompanied by a naked girl.

The girl seemed taken aback by his yell, but now she began to recover and carefully approached the warrior. Mercyn scrambled to his feet as the memories of his battle in the gully returned with full force. He inspected his body with amazement as he realized all his wounds had somehow been healed.

"What is wrong, my beautiful?"

This time Mercyn could make out her words and the twinkling notes of her voice reminded him of the burbling of the tiny brook. He looked at the girl and was amazed at her beauty and the perfection of her body. But when he caught sight of her hair, he knew the truth. What he had previously thought of as being twigs and leaves twined with her hair, was actually part of her hair. This was not a girl but a forest sprite. He took a step back.

"Beautiful one, what is wrong?" Her voice ached with worry as she reached out to grab his hand.

"No," he pulled his hand away and stepped further back. "This is wrong."

"How could it be wrong, silly?" she giggled lightly but the worry still clung to her depthless eyes. "We are in love."

Mercyn felt the haze begin to push at the edges of his consciousness, trying to encroach on his mind. But this time he was ready to fight it and the haze was shredded by the sharpness of his will. "No. I do not love you."

The words struck deep and tears welled up in the eyes of the sprite.

"No, you are wrong, you do love me. See." She bent over and took his cock into her mouth. Instantly it began to respond and Mercyn could feel the lust building in his groin.

"Stop," he commanded her and shoved her away, perhaps a little rougher than he planned, but her attack on his libido was rendering his defenses quite moot. "You are just a girl."

She landed on her seat, her arms behind her for support. Tears still poured from her eyes but her mouth twisted into a sneer.

"Just a girl. I am over a thousand years old."

"Still," Mercyn grunted non-commitally, the whole situation was making him uncomfortable.

The sprite wiped the tears from her eyes. "So this is my reward?" Bitterness spewed forth with her words. "I save you from that awful beast and then I heal your wounds with my magic and this is how you treat me. You use my body and then throw me away when you are done."

Mercyn looked away from the pouting faerie. "It is not like that," he whispered though he doubted that she could hear. "Besides, the beast was dying when I passed out. I killed it." He looked around the glade, wondering if she had rescued his clothes and maybe even his dagger.

"Fine," she pouted. "Go then. I don't need you. Your clothes are over there."

She pointed to a tree at the edge of the glade. Mercyn went over and found his clothes, all cleaned and neatly folded. In addition, she had saved not only his dagger but also his sword.

"Thank you," he said to the sprite, who ignored him, her back turned to his form. The memories of their night of pleasure pushed at his thoughts and he savored them for a moment and then put them away. He quickly slipped into his clothes and grabbed his weapons.

He turned to the tiny figure in the glade. "Goodbye," he whispered but this time he knew his words reached her ears. Her shoulders hunched over and her body was wracked with a spasm of grief. Quickly he turned away and pushed into the forest.

"Wait," the sprite cried out as he disappeared into the woods. Her words were punctuated with tears and stifled gasps of despair. "I can do better. Don't leave. Tell me what I did wrong and I will try to do better."

Mercyn ignored her pleas and disappeared into the forest.

Chapter Two: The Bandit's Treasure

Mercyn quickly made his way out of the forest, trying to forget the sprite and all that she offered. More than a few times over the next few days he berated himself for leaving that magical grove. But he knew he was fooling himself. Until he found the Ring, he could have no peace.

The glade was not far from the edge of the forest and a day and a half later, he found the trees thinning. Eventually he broke free of the cloying woods and found himself at the top of a long hill that descended onto a grassy plain. Only a few miles away he could see smoke rising from a village. The rumbling of his stomach reminded him that he had not eaten a good meal in quite some time. He had lost his pack with his rations early in the fight with the monster and the sprite had not managed to recover them. So since fleeing the glade he had subsisted on the berries and the nuts that he could manage to scrounge. He had debated a little hunting but had lamented the delay that would cause. His most urgent desire was to flee the forest.

He took off down the hill towards the town, his stomach happily anticipating a meal. The town appeared peaceful from a distance and as he approached it did nothing to disturb that notion. In fact, the sheer quiet of the village alerted him to an unknown danger. By his guess, it had to be early afternoon, a good time for the villagers to be tending the fields, but they lay untended. They were well kept for the most part, the fields kept in regular order and well pruned of weeds and such, but nobody now tended them. Mercyn could see smoke in the distance, not enough for the village to be aflame but enough for a large bonfire. Perhaps they were having a festival, he told himself, but somehow he doubted that fact. His internal alarms were ringing with increased urgency.

He decided to approach the town carefully. He pulled his sword from its makeshift scabbard and quietly moved from one spot of concealment to another. A part of his mind laughed at him, calling him paranoid, but that paranoia had saved his life before and he was not about to ignore it now.

The village was strangely silent as he approached. He was only a hundred feet from the outermost building, crouched down in a field of corn. If there was a festival in progress he should be able to hear the sounds of merriment by now.

Pausing for a moment he took in the lay of the land. A ring of buildings made up the outermost part of the town. Each was a single-story tall with a flat roof and Mercyn guessed that they were the private dwellings of the people who tended the fields. The inner ring of buildings was also single-story but these had pointed roofs. He guessed that the more wealthy villagers lived here. The smoke seemed to issue from a clearing inside the innermost buildings.

He watched the village from the fields for almost half an hour and saw no movement and neither heard any sounds from the village or saw any movement. He was nearly convinced it was abandoned, despite the evidence of the fields, when he saw movement atop one of the buildings.

Mercyn held his breath and watched as a man stood atop one of the outer ring of buildings and stretched. Apparently he had been asleep and was only now waking up. He wore a mismatch of odd clothing, as if he had raided a tailor and grabbed the first set of clothes he could find. The man picked up a spear that rested next to him and then sat on the edge of the building, spear across his lap. With his legs idly kicking in the wind, the man proceeded to gaze out over the fields.

Mercyn slowly drew back deeper into the fields, being careful not to draw the sentry's attention. He sat down and thought about the situation. The prudent thing would be to circle the village and move on. But his curiosity was peaked. The fields were well tended which meant that whatever happened in this place had happened recently. His curiosity won out over good sense and he resolved to wait until night to enter the village. Just as his paranoia had frequently saved his life, his curiosity had frequently put that life in danger. Not for the first time, Mercyn cursed the duality of his nature.

When dusk descended and the sun began to go down behind the forest he began to creep towards the village. The sentry was facing west so the setting sun was in his eyes, providing Mercyn with an advantage. Slowly and quietly he crept through the fields until he came to the clearing between the outer buildings and the fields. He held his breath and waited for the sentry's attention to wander away and then he dashed for the shadows of the nearest building.

He pressed against the side of the building, away from the sight of the sentry. He forced his breathing to remain shallow, even though they ached to take a deep breath. He waited silently, listening for the signs that he had been seen and an alarm had been raised. When nothing happened he allowed his lungs to take in the air they needed and calmed his beating heart. The easy part was over.

Taking care to spot any other sentries, he crept through the outer ring of buildings and made his way towards the center of the village. When he reached the buildings of the inner ring he began to hear the sounds of life. Laughter floated towards him, the loud raucous laughter of soldiers. Smells also began to invade his body, the smells of burning wood and the smells of cooking food. He crept between the buildings until he could see the village center.

A large bonfire had been erected. Mercyn could make out the shapes of burning furniture in the flames and another stack of destroyed furniture, this pile not burning, lay off to the side. Not far from the fire a dozen men sat around another, smaller fire. Over this fire they turned a small spit covered with sizzling meat. The men in the circle would occasionally laugh and reach over and tear a chunk of meat off the spit. Often the juices would fall into the fire, causing a momentary flare of flames that would reach up and lick out at the man grabbing the meat. His companions would laugh, as the man would quickly pull his burnt hand back with an exclamation of pain. Each of these men wore the same type of mismatched clothing as the sentry. Mercyn now guessed that they were the raided remnants of the villager's wardrobes. But unlike the sentry some of these men carried swords, though several also had spears lying next to them.

The circle seemed to be focused on a very large man whose back was to Mercyn. His laughter did not come often but when it did it was loud and booming. Frequently the men would look towards the big man after issuing a particularly fine jest, hoping to receive the big man's approval in the form of that booming laugh. When they did, their smile deepened and their sense of self increased.

Next to the big man a woman sat quietly, no food in her hands and no laughter issuing from her mouth. Her long black hair was ragged and dirty as were the remnants of the rags she wore. She never met the eyes of the men in the circle but often they would aim a jest her way, many of them of a very suggestive nature. Only one man tried to touch her and when he tried the big man slapped him with his huge hand sending the man flying backwards and setting the others to laughing even harder.

Mercyn used the shadows of the flame and the little cover provided by the carts left abandoned in the village to creep closer to the circle of men. When he was close enough to discern the entire conversation, the big man stood up, dragging the woman to her feet alongside him.

"Now it is your turn, bitch," his voice was like the booming of thunder as he cuffed the woman across the face. "I have waited long enough and my men have shown enough patience."

The woman began to cry as he tore the remnants of her clothes from her body. Her figure was a sight to behold as her alabaster skin blazed in the light of the bonfire. Her hands hung dejected at her side, resigned to her fate as the men avidly watched. Her breasts were large but still firm. Her torso tapered to a tiny waist and then flared out to meet a perfect set of hips. Her pubic area was bare of hair and the lips of her sex were visible to everyone. Her legs were long and graceful, showing the strength of exertion matched with the softness and the languor of womanhood.

The big man seemed unaffected by the sight, though his men had stopped their jeering insults and were watching with baited breath. He roughly grabbed one of her breasts and pinched the nipple hard. The woman grimaced in pain as the man twisted the nipple cruelly. Then he grabbed her by the hair and turned her around, pushing her up against a nearby table. He pushed her face into the wood with one and then began to fiddle with his breeches with the other.

As the man prepared to rape the woman Mercyn reached his breaking point, he stepped from the shadows and into the light of the bonfire.

"Step away from the woman," he commanded the big man, focusing a good part of his latent anger into that command. "Now."

The men in the circle were stunned by this new arrival. More than a few of them looked towards the big man, waiting for his lead.

The big man turned towards Mercyn and glared at him. He still held the woman's hair and pulled her to a standing position next to him. Mercyn could see blood leaking from the woman's nose.

"Who the fuck are you?" the big man boomed out angrily. Reacting to his voice, the other men quickly jumped to their feet and drew their weapons.

"I told you to step away from the woman," Mercyn kept his voice cool and calm, even as his blood started to race. Twelve on one odds were long and would probably result in his death but he was too far into it to fall back now. These men were like a pack of wolves and if he showed weakness now they would attack without mercy.

"And are you going to make me, little man?" The other men laughed quietly. Mercyn was a big man in his own right but the other man dwarfed him. Over seven feet tall, the man's shoulders were as wide as an ox and Mercyn did not doubt they held the strength of an ox also.

"You are surrounded by my best archers and at a signal from me they will cut you down," the bluff sounded bad as it rolled off his lips but he had no choice but to continue the lie. "I suggest you put away your weapons. All of them." He waved the tip of his sword at the man's crotch, where his breeches had come undone and an immense cock stuck out the opening, still aroused. The jest brought a snicker from one of the men, but at a glare from the big man it was quieted.

Apparently the big man could see through the bluff. "I don't believe you. I think you are alone, little man."

No sooner had the words left his mouth when an arrow erupted from darkness and pierced a man's throat, followed quickly by another that took another man in the eye.

Mercyn was as stunned as much as the other men. Confusing thoughts rapidly surged through his brain and he had a difficult time not searching the darkness for his mysterious benefactor.

The reactions of the other men were varied. About half threw their weapons down and fled into the darkness. The others charged Mercyn. Two more dropped before they reached him, arrows through their necks. Mercyn had enough time to see the big man toss the girl aside and grab a huge, double-bladed axe. Then the remaining four men were nearly on him.

Whenever he entered battle, a strange sense of detachment came over Mercyn. Through this detachment he was able to watch the battle as if from a distance and in slow motion. He was able to channel his anger into battle fury and he reacted to his opponents with a clarity and a swiftness that belied his size. He hoped that one day he could channel the last vestiges of his rage into that battle fury. He knew that that moment would probably mean his death, but he would welcome respite from the fury that burned his soul. But he knew that moment was far in the future as his soul held deep reserves of anger and pain.

The first man to reach him carried a sword that Mercyn effortlessly beat aside, altering the direction of the man's charge. With an out flung foot, he tripped the man and sent him sprawling. The second man had a spear and he pulled up short of the warrior and stabbed past his sword. Simultaneously, a third man lunged with a short sword, aiming for Mercyn's exposed side. Mercyn dodged to the side of the incoming spear and grabbed it behind the head. His sword flicked out and parried the blow of the shorter sword. He pulled on the spear, pulling the man wielding the spear into the path of the fourth man, fouling his charge. He let go of the spear and struck out at the man with the short sword, raking his sword along the side of the man's face. Blood seeped into the other man's eyes blinding him to the follow up thrust that took him through the heart.

The first attacker was now scrambling to his feet behind Mercyn but, just as he was prepared to turn and deal with the attacker, Mercyn heard a small hiss, a sick thud and then an intake of breath from the man behind him. Another thud sounded as the man's body hit the ground.

Another arrow took one of the remaining two attackers in the chest, dropping him out of the fight. The remaining attacker started to lose his resolve as his friends dropped dead around him. He looked wide-eyed at Mercyn and then turned to flee into the darkness. He had taken only a few steps when the big man's axe severed his head from his shoulders.

"Coward," hissed the big man as he approached Mercyn, his giant axe clutched in both hands.

The big man swung a massive blow at Mercyn. The blow would easily have cut him in half but Mercyn ducked under the wild swing and prepared a vicious counter-thrust. But the big man was amazingly quick and strong. With a twist of his wrists and a fair amount of straining muscle he reversed the path of his swing and brought his axe hammering back at Mercyn. Mercyn nearly saw the move too late. Desperately he flung his sword up to ward the blow. His blade encountered the metal bound shaft of the axe. The screech of metal on metal sounded in the night as both blade and axe held firm under the force of the blow.

The strength behind the backhanded blow stunned Mercyn and he was forced backwards and off-balance. Using a trick he had learned long ago, he used the momentum of the blow to launch him into a backward somersault, away from the killing swings of that giant axe. The poor side effect of the move was that he lost his handle on his sword and the blade skittered away from him. He quickly regained his balance and warily watched the big man stand over his fallen sword.

The big man laughed when Mercyn pulled his dagger free from his belt. "Put the toothpick away, little man. You might hurt yourself." With that he launched another wild swing at the warrior. Instead of dodging the swing Mercyn leaped directly into the man, inside the radius of his swing. He stabbed for the man's throat but the big man's strong arms, still locked in swinging his giant axe, buffeted him in the side of the head and drove his strike wide, managing to only cut a furrow in the big man's shoulder. By the time he aimed a second strike the big man had discarded his axe and with one hand he grabbed the arm with the dagger, halting the strike. The other hand wrapped around Mercyn and the mighty arm pulled the warrior in against his chest, crushing the life from him.

Mercyn felt the air being forced out of his lungs as he struggled to push the dagger into the big man's face. The strength of the giant was amazing and Mercyn was unable to advance the knife any further. The big man's other arm constricted further and Mercyn could feel the pressure in his chest as his lungs and his bones cried out for relief. A lack of air sapped at his strength as the hold tightened. Then the big man let out a loud scream of agony and his grip on the arm with the dagger slackened. Summoning a reserve of strength, Mercyn broke the man's hold and drove his dagger deep into the man's ear.

As the big man crumpled to the ground Mercyn saw the blade of his sword sticking out of the big man's lower back. A few feet away, the woman was curled into a ball on the ground, spattered with the big man's blood and crying. When she saw Mercyn standing there she threw herself into his arms.

He cringed in pain as she wrapped her arms around his torso. "Careful," he admonished her. Her grip slackened but her crying continued as she pressed her face against his chest.

Out of the darkness another figure slowly emerged this one carrying a bow. His mysterious benefactor turned out to be a woman. Tall, over six feet, she was thin and athletic with small, pert breasts that were hidden by her brown tunic. She moved with an athletic grace that pulled Mercyn's gaze to her long, willowy legs. Her trousers were also brown and clung to her body as the moved. Her skin was nearly as fair as the woman he now clutched in his arms was, but her hair was a deep yellow and cut short, barely covering her pointed ears. His benefactor was an elf. An extremely attractive elf.

"Who are you?" he asked the newcomer.

"My name is Erin and you're welcome," she answered a sarcastic smile lighting up her face. Her blue eyes sparkled in the light of the bonfire.

"Thank you, Erin, your help was quite timely. My name is Mercyn."

The raven-haired woman in his arms slowed her crying and looked at the elf. When she saw the lithe figure before them, her grip tightened a little around the man, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to reassure.

"And what is your name, little treasure," the elf chuckled as she addressed the woman.

"M-my name is Liselle," her voice was quiet as her crying began to abate.

"Nice to meet you, Liselle," Mercyn whispered soothingly. "You are safe now."

Mercyn was surprised when the woman pushed herself away from him angrily.

"Of course I am safe now," she lectured the man angrily. "And so are you thanks to me. Honestly, why the hell did you attack all these men by yourself? Are you stupid?"

Mercyn was stunned at the sight of the naked woman glaring at him, her hands on her hips. Behind him Erin laughed. "I think I agree with you, little sister. He may be stupid."

Liselle turned her glare at the elf and then rapidly her anger faded. A worried look crossed her face as she looked from Erin to Mercyn. Suddenly she flung herself back into the man's arms, nestling herself against his chest and clinging to him possessively.

"I hate to break up the moment, but perhaps we should leave before the others return," the elf pointed out, mirth in her voice.

Mercyn unwrapped the woman from his torso and held her at arm length. "You are right, we should leave now."

"Perhaps, dear Liselle, you should find some clothing," Erin chuckled. "Our poor warrior appears distracted."

Liselle's eyes wandered to the swollen bulge in his trousers and then she blushed furiously. She seemed to suddenly become aware of her nudity and hastily looked around for something to wear. She began to move towards a nearby building when she stopped. She looked back at the elf and the warrior, moving her eyes from one to the other, indecision etched on her face. Suddenly she made up her mind and she ran towards the building.

Mercyn watched her run, the bouncing of her full breasts and the swaying of her buttocks doing nothing to relieve his discomfort.

"One question, elf," he addressed the figure behind him. "Why didn't you shoot the giant?"

Mercyn could hear the smirk that lit her face as she replied. "Oh I thought you should get to have a little fun, too."

Several hours later the three of them had moved far away from village and had set up camp in a small copse of trees. A small stream had provided them the opportunity to clean up. Mercyn's body had stopped aching from the big man's exuberant hug and Liselle's nose had proven to be a minor injury. The girl also held a variety of other bruises, mostly minor. Most of all she appeared to be tired. Mercyn knew what she felt as exhaustion was creeping up on him also. Erin volunteered for first watch and Mercyn, too tired to valiantly disagree, bedded down against a tree, quickly drifting into sleep.

He was awoken sometime later by warmth on his cock. He opened his eyes and met the gaze of Liselle as she slowly bobbed up and down on his penis. He was already hard and the raven-haired beauty was managing to take the whole thing into her throat. With each downstroke her tongue would caress the staff of his penis and as she withdrew she applied suction to his cock, weaving a web of friction and sensation through his groin. One of her hands played with his testicles, cradling them gently while the other hand crept beneath him and played with entrance to his anus. He did not know how to react as a finger probed at his opening and then slid past the tight muscles at the entrance. He stiffened as the finger entered, and Liselle felt the change. She increased her pace on his cock, now bobbing her head wildly, distracting him from the intruding digit. Slowly the tension released and strange warmth began to emanate from his anus. Combined with the suction on his cock, he surrendered himself to the pleasure and he could feel his release approaching.

Unbeknownst to the couple, another set of eyes watched them. The elf was instantly aware of when the woman approached the man. She watched as Liselle worked her ministrations on the warrior. Liselle pulled her mouth off of Mercyn's cock and pulled him on top of her.

"Are you sure?" Erin could hear the man's whispered question.

"Yes," came the defiant answer. "What they tried to take from me by force, I now give to you by choice."

Liselle grabbed hold of Mercyn's cock and guided it to the moist target between her legs. The eroticism of the moment was getting to the elf as she watched. One of her hands crept to her breasts, gently caressing the mounds through her tunic. Her fingers traced the outline of her nipples, sending tingles shooting through her chest.

Mercyn paused as he entered the woman. He eased inside her and soon encountered a barrier. With amazement he realized that Liselle was a virgin. He supposed she was still young enough that this should not be too much of a shock, but her expertise with her mouth had led him to believe that she was much more experienced.

Liselle gazed into his eyes and pulled at his shoulders with his hands, urging him on. Remembering his first time he paused and kissed the woman. Her mouth seemed to draw him in, her breath and her tongue exploring the depths of his mouth. He pulled back a little inside her and then quickly stabbed forward, breaking her maidenhead and plunging deep inside her. She gasped in pain as he broke through, but then her urgency returned and she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him deeper inside.

In the shadows Erin's hand had crept beneath her trousers and was rubbing gently across her clitoris. As she watched the woman's alabaster legs encircle the man's waist her free hand quickly untied the front of her trousers. She pulled them down to allow more intimate access to her private parts. She settled back as Mercyn began to make deep thrusts into Liselle. The woman's moans issued into the night and drifted to the elf's ears. Watching the couple make love, the elf slipped two fingers inside herself as her other hand continued to stroke her clit.

Liselle tightened the grip of her thighs on the man's waist as he continued to thrust inside her. The cock rubbed across her clitoris as it penetrated her depths. The feeling of the thrusting hardness combined with the urgent friction across her clitoris shortly drove the woman toward orgasm. As her pleasure mounted her nails dug into the man's back. The feelings reached a peak and then leveled off. Liselle could feel her orgasm just moments away, but ever far away. She dug her nails in deeper and flailed her heels against the man's buttocks. A loud moan of aching lust burst from her mouth.

"Harder, harder, harder."

She repeated the chant as Mercyn, nearly lost in his own pleasure, increased his pace, moving faster and deeper, lunging harder inside her. Liselle soon found her pleasure mounting once more until finally she felt it push over the barrier and the waves of pleasure descended over her. She lost all sense of self as relief rushed through her and she yelled her release.

Mercyn could feel the pulsing of the muscles inside Liselle. She was already extremely tight, her womanhood covering his cock like a glove. When the muscles began to spasm, he was quickly sent over the edge and his orgasm hit, spilling his seed deep inside the woman's womb. He held himself still as the orgasm subsided, spent inside the satisfied woman. He lowered his body and pressed it against the warm body beneath him. Liselle reached out with her tongue and gently flicked at his ear, caressing the curve of the ear and drawing the lobe into her sucking mouth.

Both of them were oblivious to the sounds of moans from the trees nearby. Deep in the shadows Erin replayed the last moments in her mind savoring the woman's words and moans in her head. Imagining it was she beneath the man and imagining that the three fingers that plunged in and out of her vagina was his cock. Her desire rose and her body tensed as her orgasm approached. She rubbed herself with more urgency as the sensation grew. She shoved her hand deeper and held it there as her release crashed through her body. The surging sensations rushed through her body, slowly releasing her muscles into a state of relaxation. She slumped back against the tree, exhausted and she wiped the sweat from her brow, though she only managed to make a bigger mess as her hand was soaked in her own juices. She smiled to herself and then closed her eyes in satisfaction.

Chapter Three: The Quest

The next dawn found the three eating a light breakfast next to a little stream. Liselle had had enough good sense to grab some food when she went to get some clothes so the trio was lucky enough to eat some dried bacon and some tasteless flour cakes. A tension seemed to hang in the air, as none of the three knew what to make of the previous night's events.

Erin finished chewing a piece of meat and then finally broke the silence. "Where next, chief."

Mercyn glowered at the elf and picked up another hot cake off the fire. It was hot so he juggled it from finger to finger. "You can go wherever you want."

"I was kind of thinking of hanging out with you for awhile," the elf replied, ignoring the glare Liselle shot at her as she uttered the words.

"You'll just get in the way," the warrior muttered.

The elf chuckled. "My dear Liselle, you were correct, he is quite stupid." The girl nodded in response and turned her glare on the warrior.

"I don't have to take this," his reply was indignant but totally half-hearted.

"But you will, my dear," Erin whispered seductively. She reached out with a supple hand and caressed one of his unshaven cheeks, locking eyes with the warrior. "Because us girls are just so sexy."

Liselle's suddenly couldn't figure out whom to glare at. Her eyes shifted from one to the other glaring at first the man and then at the elf. But when neither broke their gaze, the glare was quickly gone. She reached out and grabbed Mercyn's hand. The contact caused him to shake himself free of the elf's gaze, but he also pulled his hand away from the girl. Erin only sat back and laughed.

Mercyn stood up, facing the elf. Neither woman could miss the far away look in his eyes. "Listen, I just want to be alone. I don't need you to come with me and I definitely don't want you to come."

"And what about me?" an indignant Liselle had also stood. Her hands were on her hips in a mirror image of her outburst in the village. This time, though, she was clothed and the effect was less arousing, but not by much. Unfortunately for Mercyn, her glare and the tone of her voice erased all such thoughts. "Perhaps you thought to leave me all alone in the wilderness? You might not need me to go wherever you are going, but I could certainly use some help. I suppose you thought you could steal my virginity and then discard me like a dirty towel. I think not."

Mercyn was stunned, obviously at a loss for words as to how to respond to the black-haired fireball standing before him.

"Excuse me," Erin drew Liselle's glare. "I don't believe he stole your virginity. I clearly remember you giving it away quite freely."

Liselle turned a deep shade of red as first the elf and then Mercyn started laughing uncontrollably.

"That is not funny," Liselle sat down with a pout on her face. A few minutes of watching the others laugh cured her embarrassment and she soon joined in.

Once she regained control, Liselle stood up again and started gathering their few possessions. "Alright, now that that is settled, where are we going?"

Mercyn got strangely quiet and withdrew back into himself. "I am on a quest."

The women just waited for the warrior to continue. After a pause, he did. "We are going to find the Ring of Power."

Erin raised her eyebrow in wonder. "Do you know where it is?"

Mercyn shook his head. "But I know someone who does. The Oracle."

The elf shook her head. "You know, you could have picked a tougher quest. Maybe. How about we slay a dragon instead and call it a day."

The warrior's steely gaze made the elf feel regret her levity. "I don't suppose you have the Keys," she added in a far more serious tone.

"No, but I know where to find them."

"Excuse me, but what the hell is the Ring of Power and who the hell is the Oracle," Liselle demanded. She moved a couple steps closer to Mercyn but looked to the elf for a response.

"The Ring of Power is supposed to grant wishes for the wielder. It was lost a long time ago. That you haven't heard of it is not surprising. Some legends, though refer to it as the Ring of Life, while it is called Madrigal's Ring by my people and the Wizard's Ring by its maker."

"Oh," Liselle stood for a moment, trying to absorb the elf's words.

Erin continued. "The Oracle is supposed to know everything in the world. If anyone knows where Madrigal's Ring is now, it would be the Oracle. But to see the Oracle you need the three Keys to the Hidden Cave. The cave is actually misnamed, as it seems a great many people know its location. Unfortunately, the Keys have been lost for over a hundred years."

"Not so," Mercyn shook his head as the elf finished. "One has been found, the other lies nearby and I managed to discover the location of the third. Twenty years ago, Haran the Black managed to gather two of the Keys. Unfortunately, the guardian of the second Key managed to kill him before he escaped. Both rings stayed right there, in the catacombs beneath Hav, until two years ago. Some adventurer braved the catacombs and recovered the first Key. He gave it to Princess Alia as a gift of his undying love. His love may have been undying but the catacombs took care of his body when he went searching for the second."

"Where is the third?" Liselle asked.

"At the bottom of a volcano."

Erin sat back and exhaled a deep breath. "So all we need to do is walk in to the capital of the Havelin Empire and demand the first Key from the Emperor's daughter, search an endless set of caves for the second and then take a swim in molten lave for the third. Well as long as it is important." She stood and began to gather her stuff.

"Why are we on this quest?" Liselle inquired, innocently enough.

The elf cringed at the question. She had sensed something in the man that said he would not welcome such a question. Only desperate men took such a quest.

Her instincts were correct as Mercyn's face suddenly drained of all emotion and color. "I don't know why you are on this quest." He grabbed his sword and stalked off through the trees.

Liselle grabbed her stuff and started to chase after him when Erin grabbed her arm. "Give him some time." Liselle looked after the retreating man and then nodded. The two women grabbed the rest of their stuff and followed a few minutes later.

Mercyn hadn't gone far and the women quickly caught up. For the rest of the day they traveled in silence.

The copse of trees let them out onto another rolling plain though this time they could make out the purple of a mountain range in the distance and there was no sign of human habitation. They traveled cross-country most of the day, the grass on the plains reached Liselle's waist so the going was far tougher on her than it was for her two taller companions but she trudged on, even though she wasn't used to traveling like this or at such a pace. She never complained, even though her discomfort was obvious. Both Mercyn and the elf were quite aware of her difficulties, but neither spoke about them, nor did the pace lessen. Erin did not want to embarrass the girl nor did she think her comments would be welcome. Mercyn just didn't care. Liselle had touched areas he didn't want touched and he was punishing her.

About midday Mercyn realized how horrible he was being. They shortly reached a road that ran in the general direction they were traveling. He called for a break even though neither he nor the elf required it. Liselle was so tired that she didn't notice their pitying looks. When they resumed, the pace was much more suited for the smaller woman. But when the storm broke, the pace again increased, this time by necessity as they searched for shelter.

At first the rain was light and didn't hamper them much, but when the thunder started to roll, the light rain became a downpour. They were still far from any apparent shelter, as the plain seemed to stretch all the way to the mountains. As the wind and the rain picked up their visibility became nil.

They traveled in the rain for hours though it seemed like days to the drenched trio. Finally, as the day began to darken and they sensed that night was approaching they saw a huge, dark shape loom before them. As they got closer they found it was some sort of broken hill, its jagged top reaching nearly a hundred feet into the air above the plain. The road curved around the side of the hill and right at its base stood a small, one-roomed shack.

No lights shown through the one window and when Mercyn pounded on the door, no one answered. Quickly deciding it was abandoned, Mercyn pushed open the door and the trio entered. The shack was just as it appeared from the outside, a single room with a single door and a single, small window set next to the door. A dark fireplace dominated one wall and a rickety table was the only piece of furniture. The ceiling was fairly sound as water only dripped from a handful of spots. A layer of dust covered most of the room and the smell of mildew dominated the air. Rolling thunder followed a bolt of lightning as the group hustled inside.

"Well, at least its mostly dry," Liselle offered, eyeing the room with resigned distaste.

"We could use a fire. I think I saw some wood piled outside." Mercyn didn't want to go back out into the rain but the thought of a fire appealed to him. He struggled back out into the storm and found a small stack of wood next to the side of the shack. A rusted axe lay next to the pile. He grabbed an armload of wood and brought it inside.

"It is wet, but it should work." He went back out for another load while the women tried to start the fire. Shortly after he returned, they succeeded.

The fire crackled to life and they all sat back, trying to force some of the wet and the cold out their bodies and their clothes. As they gathered around the fire, Liselle and Erin exchanged a look.

The elf pushed herself away from the fire. "I want to have a look at this hill. Something about it makes me nervous."

"You don't have too," Liselle whispered to her, guilt clear on her face.

"I know," the elf responded with a soft smile.

"I'll go with you," Mercyn responded, oblivious to the meaning in the women's exchange.

"No, I might be able to get some fresh game if I don't have a lumbering hulk like yourself following me around like a lost dog. You better stay her and get dry." The elf shook her head and rolled her eyes at Liselle. The girl stifled a giggle.

The elf left, leaving the two humans alone in the shack. There was silence except for the crashing thunder and the crackling fire until Mercyn spoke to the girl's back. "I'm sorry for the way I acted. I had no excuse."

Liselle stopped ringing out her cloak as he spoke but she did not turn around.

"I already lost someone and I don't-"

"Shhh," she quickly turned and interrupted him with a finger to his lips. She lightly kissed his nose. "You don't need to explain."

Then, as vicarious as the wind, she spun away and stood by the fire facing away from him. "Besides, I have decided you need to be punished." She quickly unlaced her pants and let them drop to the floor. Her buttocks were beautiful in the light of the fire, shadows danced across them like clowns in a manic play. Slowly the girl spun back to the man and stepped towards him. She stepped across his body as he sat, her legs straddling him and his face inches from her sex. "Eat me."

Mercyn was taken aback for only a moment. Before she could utter the words a second time he leaned forward and kissed her directly on her the lips of her labia. His tongue slid from his mouth and penetrated the folds slightly before sliding up and gently flicking across her clitoris. He tasted sweat and dirt at first and her skin was clammy from the rain, but when the first moan escaped Liselle's lips he soon forgot about taste and the cold and reveled in the pleasure he was passing along.

He jabbed his tongue at her clitoris a couple times, barely touching the bud, and then circled, but never touched, her secret spot, leaving a hot trail of saliva in his wake. When his tongue returned for a slow lick of her clitoris, starting at the base and slowly sliding beneath the protective jacket, Liselle shuddered and her legs collapsed.

Mercyn fell back under her weight crashing onto his back as Liselle collapsed atop him, his head firmly planted between her thighs. She grabbed the back of his head and ground herself into his face, soft groans rumbling deep in her throat. Mercyn had to momentarily forgo his ministrations as it was suddenly a struggle to breathe. Finally he was forced to grab the girl's thighs and hold her still.

He ran his tongue the length of her labia, each time finishing on the clitoris with a twist of his tongue, each twist sliding a different direction. He then reached up and took the clitoris between his lips and sucked lightly, eliciting a shudder from the woman atop him. His tongue danced across the tip as he held the clitoris in his mouth, sucking lightly. He could feel the tension in her thighs abate when he released her from his lips. He smiled to himself, as he began to run his tongue across her clitoris with broad wet strokes, making sure to slide his tongue beneath the hood before starting each stroke. Another note of pleasure slipped from her mouth.

He lightly lifted her with one hand, not enough to move her but enough for him to slide one hand between her legs. He brought his thumb up to the lips of her labia and gently caressed the folds, at first only playing with the wetness and not penetrating. Then he changed the strokes of his tongue. Instead of the broad, wet strokes, he focused his tongue to a point and started to make sharp sweeping strokes across her button. At first he started slow, waiting several seconds between each stroke. Then he began to gain speed, first decreasing the time between licks and then increasing the speed of the stroke itself. He felt the muscles in her body tense and he slowed back down, but each time he slowed down he never slowed more than the time previous. He slid his thumb inside her and caressed her inner walls as he began to increase his pace one more time. This time he varied his speed from stroke to stroke, careful to never develop a pattern. He used his thumb as a counterpoint to his tongue, varying the strokes even more and adding a layer of complexity to his actions.

He soon felt her frustrations mount as he felt her muscles tense in anticipation and then release when he backed off. He listened to her breathing, waiting for the growl of desperation that he knew would come. When it did he abruptly changed his motions. Now, instead of working against each other, he moved his tongue and his thumb in unison. Slowly he picked up speed and her body responded. Her muscles clenched around his thumb, relegating it to moving in tiny circles within her. He listened to the clenching of her teeth, always increasing speed but always holding something back. When he heard her breaths come in gasps through her clenched teeth he sensed the moment approaching and left nothing in reserve. With every bit of speed he could muster he pushed his tongue back and forth along her clitoris.

He held tightly to her leg with his free hand as her convulsions threatened to pull her away from his tongue. He held her against his speeding tongue until he felt her body release in orgasm and the muscles in her vagina pulse around his thumb. Then he changed tactics again, this time holding his tongue still against her clitoris. At this moment her clitoris was at its most sensitive and the wrong move could easily cause pain. Lightly he touched the bud and he imperceptibly flicked the end of tongue. His tongue never left the clitoris as his tongue barely moved, but her body felt it and responded with a shudder and the loudest moan yet flew from her mouth. Again he moved it ever so little and again she shuddered and this time the pulsing in her vagina regained strength for a moment.

He repeated his motions till she could take no more and she stood and leaned against the table. She paused to catch her breath and turned back to the reclining man. She lifted her tunic from her body and tossed it aside.

"Fuck me," she taunted him with a devilish smile her naked body bringing him to instant arousal.

Mercyn smiled in response and quickly tore off his clothes. He moved into her arms and wrapped her in his strength. He lowered his lips to her and shared with her her own juices. She laughed as she licked the moisture from his lips and then thrust her tongue deep into his mouth, digging for his throat. She slid her hands down his back and cupped his ass. "I want you to fuck me like HE was going to," she cackled and then her tongue was back inside his mouth.

He didn't need to be told HE was, the memory of last night was still quite fresh. He smiled as he spun the girl around and bent her over the table. He was far gentler than the giant in the village had been. He spread her legs and then eased his hard cock into her wetness. Gently he began to stroke inside of her. He watched as his hardness slid into her. The sight was a turn on, he was not small and the girl's labia had to stretch wide to take in his cock. He began to slide in a little deeper and a little faster, the friction and the warmth adding to his excitement.

Liselle grunted in pain as he thrust the entire length inside of her, quickly snapping Mercyn back to an awareness of the woman beneath him. Instantly, he adjusted his pace to a slower and shorter stroke.

This did not please Liselle and she slammed her fist against the table. "Fuck me, dammit. I'm not some porcelain doll. Fuck me hard."

Mercyn paused, all thrusting stopped. He was suddenly unsure how to proceed.

Liselle pressed her face and hands against the table and thrust back at him. "Fuck me," she growled. "Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me."

He didn't need to be told again and he began to thrust deep inside of her. At first he was still worried about hurting her but as her mantra continued he forgot about her pain. Liselle began to slam her open palms against the table and the table began to wobble precariously as Mercyn began to slam mercilessly inside the woman. His mind never registered the pain-laced moans that issued from her throat as his moment built. He never saw her hand snake between her legs to rub her clitoris. He never heard the howling of the wind outside the shack. He pounded with no remorse now, his hands on her hips pulling her hard against his thighs, his face clenched and pointing towards the ceiling, the slapping of their thighs was the only sound he heard. He felt his orgasm approach and then with one final, great thrust and an agonized groan, he unloaded himself deep inside her. The warmth of his seed combined with the ministrations of her fingers was enough to send her over the edge a second time.

He held himself inside her for a moment after he was spent. He could feel himself soften inside her and then his cock popped loose. They both gasped for air and then, with a sigh, he lowered his satisfied body onto her heaving form. Unfortunately, that was the last straw for the rickety table and it crashed to the floor beneath the couple.

They both laughed amid the wreckage as Mercyn rolled onto his back, pulling Liselle's head onto his chest. After she regained control she rose up and looked him in the eye, that mischievous grin not quite gone.

"I already know what I taste like tonight. I wonder how you taste?" With that she slid down his body and took him inside her mouth.

Things might have proceeded further but a very wet elf suddenly slid in the door and slammed it shut behind her. Her breathing was heavy and fast as she pushed her body up against the door. Startled, Liselle let go of his cock and scramble away from him, covering her body with her wet clothes. Mercyn merely sat up and dragged some clothes across his crotch.

"Hope I didn't disturb anything, but we got a problem."

"What?" Mercyn asked, the pleasure of the last few minutes still clouding his mind.

"Can't you hear?" the out of breath elf asked, incredulous.

Mercyn paused and listened to the storm. The wind was wild and howled through the night. Occasional streaks of lightning lit the window and the accompanying thunder drowned even the wind.

"What? All I here is a storm," Liselle was stumped. "The wind sure is loud, though."

Her words clicked in Mercyn's head and he swore. He jumped to his feet and ran to the window. Deep in the gloom he could make out the shapes moving in the storm.

"Grommen," he whispered.

"Grommen?" Liselle looked to Erin.

"Wolves. Big Wolves. Big, man-eating wolves."

"Shit," Mercyn swore as he picked up his sword. "I wish I could just go a day without someone or something wanting to kill me."

Chapter Four: Escape

The howling increased as Mercyn watched more and more black shapes slipping through the darkness. The strength of the storm had increased in the last few minutes, the rain was pelting the landscape and the lightning frequently lit the sky. Thunder rolled and the wind chorused with the howls of the beasts to create a frightening song.

"How many are there?" Liselle asked, trying to see around the warrior.

"One is too many," he grumbled. The elf still leaned against the front door. She looked thoroughly soaked and her face was flushed as she fought to regain her breath. If not for the grommen outside, Mercyn remarked to himself, he might find the heaving of her bosom arousing. To be honest, he had to admit he was enjoying the sight despite the danger. From her surreptitious peeks at his naked body, he guessed that she was enjoying to view also. Liselle jostled him, she was trying to see out the window, and Mercyn guiltily ripped his gaze from the elf's breasts.

"How many do you think you could take?"

The elf looked down at her bow and then gazed through the wall in the general direction of the grommen. She paused a moment, listening to the storm and then she shrugged her shoulders. "Two, perhaps three if I am lucky and have the time. Not nearly enough."

Mercyn looked at Liselle, who had moved away from the window. He watched her slight form kneel next to her bag and begin digging through the clothes. They were going to need every weapon they could get if they were to survive the night. He pursed his lips and then he pulled out his dagger and offered it, hilt first, to the girl. "You should take this."

Liselle turned away from her bag, a smile on her face and a wicked, curved dagger in her hand. The dagger had no adornment; no gems imbedded into its hilt, no fancy tracework around the pommel. But one look told Mercyn that the blade was of excellent quality. "No thanks," she feigned disinterest in the proffered weapon though the mischievous smile cracked through the façade. "I have my own."

Erin laughed half-heartedly. "It seems you pulled quite the haul out of that town."

Mercyn grunted and put his dagger away. He was glad he didn't have to part with it. It had been good to him lately and he felt safer with it at his belt. "Do you know how to use that?"

Liselle frowned at him and glanced down at the blade. "Just worry about how to get us out here."

The elf stifled another half-hearted chuckle.

Mercyn obediently began to scan the small shack, trying to do exactly as he was asked. He considered every item in the room, each time asking what that particular item could do to help them. The broken table, the only piece of furniture in the shack, had been reduced to nothing useful except for as fuel for the fire. The stack of firewood next to the hearth was enough to last the night, perhaps, but wouldn't be good for much else. Aside from that, there was absolutely nothing in the shack except for the stuff that they had brought, and most of that consisted of food.

"It looks like we may have to wait it out and hope they go away. They don't like fire much, so they probably won't attack until the wood burns out. By then, if we are lucky, the storm will be gone and they will, at the very least, be somewhat weakened."

Liselle looked confused. "Why is that?"

"Grommen means storm hound in Old Hav," the elf answered. "They draw their power from the storms. It makes them stronger, faster and far more intelligent than normal wolves. Outside of a storm, they are just well-trained hounds."
"So, if the storm breaks they will leave?"

Mercyn nodded. "Maybe. Providing they haven't broken in before then. Grommen tend to be aggressive and I think we can rely on at least one attack coming. If we can beat that back we may have a chance."

Seeing nothing to do but wait, the trio settled down into a watchful silence. Mercyn, now clothed, took the elf's place at the door and Erin stood by the window, trying to keep her eyes on the sleek, black forms that flitted from shadow to shadow. Liselle busied herself cleaning up the debris left from the table and stacking it next to the hearth. All three tried not to let the rising cacophony of howls dishearten them.

"What's this?" Liselle muttered to herself as she cleared the debris off a small portion of the floor. She saw a strange seam in the floor, running between to floorboards. She knocked on the floor with a piece of the table and a hollow sound reached her ears. She grabbed her dagger and pried up one of the floorboards. It came up easily. She grabbed a second and pulled it up also. "I think we have something here."

Erin broke away from the door and moved over to the growing hole in the floor as Liselle had removed four more of the boards and revealed a dark hole about ten feet deep. The elf kneeled by the hole and then turned to Mercyn. "It looks like the entrance to a cave of some sort. There is a chest or something at the bottom, too."

Mercyn smiled. "Perhaps we won't have to wait."

The elf set her bow down and lowered herself into the hole. The floor of the hole was solid rock and had little give. "It's a tunnel," she called back up to the others. The light from the shack glowed dully at the bottom of the pit, allowing her to see a short distance in each direction. The tunnel wasn't very wide and the walls were roughly hewn. "It goes two directions from here and it is big enough for us to stand. It reminds me of a gold mine."

"What's in the trunk?" Liselle asked.

The trunk was fairly non-descript with no discernable markings. The chest was only about three feet long and one foot deep. It was made completely of wood with iron hinges and an unlocked iron latch. There was a touch of rust on the hinges and the latch, but the trunk was still in pretty good condition. Erin kneeled and opened the moldy trunk. Inside were a coil of old, dry rope and a handful of pieces of wood. "It looks like we got some torches and some rope."

Liselle looked up at the warrior, who nodded without hesitating. "We will try it."

At that moment they heard a loud thump, followed by something scrambling at the roof. "Quickly, grab our stuff and get down there," he shouted at Liselle, his heart beginning to race. The girl scrambled to her feet and quickly gathered their bags and tossed them down to Erin. The elf had lit a torch and was peering down each tunnel. She grabbed the bags and tossed them a little ways down one tunnel.

The scrambling grew louder and the ceiling began to creak. The storm chose that moment to increase its furor yet again. The wind began to attack the shack itself, picking up loose pieces of the landscape and hurling them at the walls. Something large slammed into the door, nearly knocking Mercyn off his feet. He planted his weight and held against the weight of the creature outside. "Hurry", he grunted, straining as the grommen slammed into the door again.

Liselle threw the last of their belongings to the elf, just as a loud crack sounded throughout the room. Both Liselle and Mercyn stared at the ceiling as at first nothing happened and then part of the roof collapsed, sending a giant hound crashed to the ground.

Liselle screamed in shock as the grommen slammed to the ground between her and Mercyn. It was as big as a pony and its hide was blue-black and slicked back from the rain. The wolf regained its feet and snarled at the girl. It eyes were as black as night and its huge yellow fangs glistened with saliva.

Mercyn darted in from behind and slashed the beast along its flank, drawing a yelp of surprise. The beast whipped around and faced the warrior, growling its displeasure. Liselle used the opportunity to slip into the relative safety of the tunnel. The grommen, ignored her and leaped at Mercyn, its jaws agape and aiming to snap at the warriors head. The warrior whipped up his sword and managed to catch the beast's head with the hilt, knocking it off balance and fouling the leap. Unfortunately it also knocked his sword free. Silently the warrior vowed to get the grips changed on his weapon; he was dropping it way too often. The hound rolled to its feet and snarled. Mercyn distracted the beast by launching a kick at the wolf, his foot smashing into the side of its head. It yelped but quickly followed up with another leap. By this time the warrior had his dagger ready and, as the wolf leapt, he slid beneath the leap and struck out, ripping a huge gash in the creatures chest and abdomen. With a crash the wolf's leap came to an end by the hearth, where it crumbled to a heap, its head in the fire. It whined piteously until its fur caught fire and the beast died.

Mercyn went to recapture his sword but another wolf crashed through the door and he could hear the claws of another grommen on the roof. With a last look at his discarded sword, he adjusted his grip on his dagger and he dove into the tunnel. It was far shallower than he thought and he crashed painfully into the ground. Reacting solely on instinct he rolled onto his back and was able to watch as the grommen followed him into the hole.

The black monster landed on the man, driving most of the air from his lungs and causing his left shoulder to snap like a twig. It was all Mercyn could do to grab the creature's head in both hands and hold the teeth at bay as the beast tried to rip out his throat. Immense pain coursed through his left shoulder as he felt the broken bones scrape against each other. The grommen's rear claws began to rend at the man's torso and blood began to flow from several cuts and wounds.

The man and the wolf struggled for a moment, the grommen's teeth slowly descending towards the man's face, when abruptly the struggle ended. The wolf went limp in the man's grip. He rolled the dead beast off of him and scrambled to his feet the best he could. The blood pouring from two huge gashes across his ribs combined with his broken shoulder to make him suddenly light-headed and dizzy. Someone grabbed him and steadied him as he blindly grabbed for something to hold onto. He opened his eyes and saw Liselle, bloody dagger in one hand, snake her arm around his back and pull him down the tunnel, away from the pit. Erin pushed past them towards the pit, a torch in hand. She pulled the wooden chest and the corpse of the wolf into the mouth of the tunnel and lit the chest on fire. Flames crackled to life and a miniature wall of flame burst into being as first the trunk and then the dead grommen caught fire.

"Let's move, that won't deter them long," she passed the torch to Liselle, who had slid her dagger into her belt, and pushed the two humans down the tunnel before her. She followed, watching the tunnel behind her, bow ready to fire.

The tunnel wasn't wide enough for two people to move abreast, so Mercyn soon had to take his own weight and make his way. He had recovered from his initial dizziness but he was still losing blood rapidly. Liselle handed him a shirt from her pack and he tried to bandage the wounds. Moving, with a broken shoulder and with only a flickering torch for light, he had little success.

"We need to stop or he will bleed to death," Liselle stopped and took the shirt from Mercyn.

As if in answer, a chorus of howls echoed down the tunnel. "I don't think that will be possible," the elf responded. The tunnel had curved slightly and they were out of sight of the fire. Erin took a couple steps back down the passage. "I think the fire went out."

"Go," Mercyn pushed Liselle away from him. She had wrapped the shirt around his waist, covering the wounds. Mercyn clenched his teeth and pressed his left arm against the makeshift bandage. In his other hand he held his dagger. "This will have to do. Move."

Liselle and Mercyn hurried down the tunnel, another howl echoing through the darkness. They hadn't gone far when they entered into a larger cave. Circular, there were three round exits leaving from the room. Stalagmites pointed towards a ceiling that was perhaps thirty feet in the air and matching stalactites dotted the roof. Mercyn figured they must be under the hill. Small piles of rubble dotted the floor. Next to one of the piles laid a rusty pick.

"Right. We should go right," Mercyn hissed between clenched teeth. The pain in his shoulder was immense as he pressed his left arm against his abdomen, but every time he relaxed the arm he could feel the blood begin to seep around the sides of his bandage. He pointed with his dagger. "Grab that pick."

Liselle gasped as she looked over Mercyn's shoulder. Quickly he spun, but nothing was there; not even the elf. Mercyn swore and was ready to run back to get her when she came pelting through the tunnel.

"They put out the fire ... somehow," she wheezed. Her hands on her knees, she gasped for breath. "I got the first one who came down. It took two arrows but ... between it ... and the other corpse ... it blocked most of the passage."

She gulped for more air. "The next one tried to crawl over ... but I shot it, too. I think I just wounded it."

Mercyn nodded. He grimaced through the pain and looked at each of the exits. "Let's go right. If we get separated, we will always go right at every turn. Remember that."

The first passage to the left was even narrower and shorter than the original tunnel. It instantly began to slope downwards and curve to the left. The ground was not very even and, frequently piles of rubble and large stalagmites forced them to squeeze past. A howl signaled pursuit behind them and they hoped the obstacles that delayed them might halt the hounds. The tunnel split again to the right and the trio followed it.

This passage began to slope back up and the group could hear a dull roar in the distance. The tunnel emptied into another large cave. The roar belonged to an underground river that entered through the wall on the right, crashed down a short ridge and then raced through a shallow ditch and out the other end of the cave. The far side of the cave was invisible in the dark murk. The torch hissed from the river's spray when Liselle stuck it out, trying to get a view of the far wall. Quickly she pulled it back and shielded it from the water.

All three looked back the way they came. Howling could still be heard, though it sounded far away.

"If we can cross, we will probably lose our pursuit. Grommen are not good swimmers," Mercyn stepped towards the river. In the murk he could tell that it was only thirty feet or so across.

"And how are we supposed to do that?" Liselle was at his shoulder and she eyed the river. She had planted the torch near the entrance where the elf had taken up watching down the tunnel.

"Can you swim?" he asked.

"Yeah, I grew up next to a river."

"What about you?" he called to the elf. Erin looked back and nodded.

"Okay, I guess we swim."

"And how are you going to do that?" Liselle frowned at him. "You can barely walk."

"You guys go first and then we'll tie the rope around me. If I can't make it, you guys can pull me across."

Liselle's frown deepened and then she reluctantly nodded. "You better be able to make it," she muttered.

She dug into her pack and pulled out the rope from the chest. It looked sturdy enough, but mold was growing along the strands so its integrity was in question. "Can you throw any of this across?"

"Let's find out." He picked up her pack and it wasn't too heavy. He moved as close to the river as he dared and hurled the bag with all his strength. The bag landed safely on the other side about five feet from the river.

Howls echoed louder from the passage. The grommen had caught the scent.

"Move it," Mercyn growled.

Liselle dove into the river, one end of the rope coiled around her waist, the other around Mercyn's. The current was strong and the girl was pulled about twenty feet down river before the rope began to pull taut. Mercyn set his feet and pulled against the current. Using him as an anchor, she was able to fight through the current and gain the far side. Another ten feet downstream and she would have been swept under the far wall and away.

Erin handed the torch and her bow and quiver to Mercyn and then dove into the pool. She was a strong swimmer but the current quickly grabbed her and hurtled her body towards the wall. She struggled for a moment and then burst free, pulling herself to safety at about the same spot as Liselle.

She climbed free of the water just as a grommen burst into the cave. Its howl chilled Mercyn's blood as he turned to face the thing. The wolf seemed to grin as it spotted its wounded prey. Assured of victory, but still taught caution by the death of its fellows, it slowly stalked towards the man.

Without thinking Mercyn turned and whipped the bow across the river, followed quickly by the quiver. The weapons fell near the pack and the arrows spilt onto the ground. The wolf leapt closer and Mercyn had to whip back around quickly to defend himself. He waved the torch between him and the black hound, fending it off. The flames bothered the grommen, it cringed from the heat each time Mercyn pushed it forwards. The warrior continued to move backwards until he felt the edge of the river beneath his feet. He waved the torch at the grommen one more time, forcing it to back off.

Another howl blasted through the cave as another hound entered the cave. The first grommen answered gleefully but his call was cut off as an arrow suddenly caught it in the exposed part of its throat. Using the moment to his advantage Mercyn rushed at the other wolf, waving the torch before him like a sword. The hound flinched back into the tunnel.

Mercyn covered half the distance to the passage and then stopped as the rope began to run out. He jammed the torch into a crack in the floor. Turning back to the river he ran as fast as he could and leapt into the river. He covered over half the distance before he crashed into the cold surface of the water, feet first. The temperature came as a slight shock to the body and it took him a moment to react as the current started to pull him down river. He reached out with his arm and began to pull himself through the water. He forced his left arm to respond and, despite the pain and the lack of strength in the arm, he was able to pull himself to the other side.

He heard another howl turn into a yelp of pain and he turned to see a grommen go down with an arrow in the eye. Two other wolves quickly fled back into the tunnel and away from the elf's deadly bow.

Liselle had another torch lit by the time Mercyn joined them. "It's our last damn one," she cursed angrily. She had only managed to grab a couple from the chest and now they were almost gone.

The elf joined them, her bow still trained on the far tunnel. "I only have three arrows left."

Mercyn cursed also, but his was in reaction to the pain in his shoulder. "Let's get out of here."

* * * * *

Two passages left this end of the chamber. They picked up there stuff and fled down the one on the right. The tunnel was much wider than any they had previously traveled. Perhaps twenty feet wide, all three of them could have moved side by side, but at first they moved in single file, Liselle in the lead with the torch, the wounded Mercyn just over her shoulder and Erin bringing up the rear with her bow ready to fire.

The darkness and the isolation began to take its toll on the trio. The torch provided little light and they could see only a few feet in front of them. Frequently Liselle thought she saw a dark figure loom before them. Each time her heart jumped in her breast until the light of the torch revealed the illusion but then she would jump again, as a warm breath fell on her neck. It would take her a moment to remember it was only Mercyn. The tunnel was silent for the most part, the heaving breaths of the trio and their slapping feet on the earth were the dominant sounds. But the oppressiveness of the environment warped even these. Mercyn felt the presence of something watching, something looming just beyond the light of the torch. He waited for it to pounce but it never did. Erin, for her part, would frequently slow and look back over her shoulder, sure that a grommen lurked in the shadows, ready to pounce.

They ran for about a quarter hour before another, smaller tunnel broke off from the larger, running to the right. Liselle paused before the opening and turned to Mercyn questioningly. He nodded at the passage. "We always go right."

This tunnel was much thinner, allowing only one person at a time to slip by. At one point the tunnel was so narrow that Mercyn needed to turn sideways to slip by. The tunnel also jogged around sharp corners that blocked the light of the torch and the elf constantly found herself momentarily bathed in darkness. Each time the darkness came, a chill ran up her spine and she pressed closer to Mercyn, both because she was comforted by his presence and because she was closer to the light.

The smaller passage ended in a much larger passage, this one even larger than the one they had recently left. It stretched away in either direction, moving in a line straighter than any tunnel they had seen previously.

Mercyn leaned against the wall of the tunnel and gritted his teeth against the pain in his shoulder. The light-headedness was still present and he could still feel the warm, searing ache of the wounds along his ribs. A quick reconnoitering of his bandages revealed a shirt soaked through with blood that was even now seeping through and dripping down his sides.

Liselle came up and checked the bandages also, a horrified breath escaping her lips at the amount of blood. Seeing the paleness of his face and the pain-driven sweat, she pressed her hand against his forehead. The worry in her eyes increased.

She turned to the elf. "He has lost a lot of blood and a fever has set in. I don't know how much farther he can go."

"Far enough," he grumbled, though he wasn't sure if he said the words aloud or just spoke them in his mind.

Erin didn't answer at first. She was staring at the wall of the passage and ran her fingers along it. "Look at this. Look how smooth they are."

Mercyn didn't need to look as he could feel the smoothness against his back.

Liselle also ran her hand along the wall. "Man-made, they must be."

"Made by someone, though I doubt men could live this deep underground," the elf retorted, caution in her voice answering the growing hope in the other woman's.

"But they still might be here. Perhaps they can help us," Liselle's eyes unmistakably shifted to Mercyn.

"Just as likely they will kill us for trespassing," Erin answered.

Liselle confronted her with her hands on her hips in that familiar pose. "Do we have a choice?"

Erin looked at Mercyn. The warrior leaned against the wall, his eyes closed tightly and his breath shallow. He didn't seem to even hear the two women. "I guess not."

Liselle took Mercyn's hand and gently pulled him away from the wall. They headed to the right and moved down the passage. The rest seemed to have sapped much of the adrenaline from Mercyn and his body had a difficult time responding to his fevered mind. Liselle found herself having to guide him and, at times, she had to support much of his weight. This was difficult as he was much bigger than she was and because she was trying to hold the torch in one hand. Once, the warrior stumbled and Liselle dropped the torch. For a horrified moment they watched the torch land on the floor of the tunnel. The flame sputtered once, twice and then the flame regained strength. Breathing a sigh of relief, Erin bent and picked it up. Against her better judgement she held onto it as they proceeded. She would not be able to use her bow while she held the torch, but it was a better choice than losing their only light.

The elf dubbed the tunnel, the Avenue, because it reminded her of the large streets in the cities aboveground. The size of the Avenue was daunting to the three travelers. Walking down the middle of the tunnel made them feel exposed and vulnerable. The trio hugged the right wall and it made them feel a little more secure, though the light from their torch didn't stretch to the far wall and the shadows were omnipresent. The minutes stretched to hours in their minds as they trudged along. Mercyn rapidly was losing his strength and when the elf called a rest he sagged against the wall and slid to the floor.

Erin had called the halt because she had noticed a strange scrawling on the wall. She peered at the writing under the light on the wall and then shook her head in puzzlement. "I can't make out any of it."

Liselle looked up from wiping Mercyn's face and glanced at the wall. "I was never taught to read." She was too tired to defend her ignorance. She dismissed the strange writing and returned to tending the warrior.

"Come on," the elf turned away from the wall. "If we don't go now he may never get up."

The elf helped the woman pull Mercyn to his feet. All strength seemed to be drained from him and his fever was obvious to the two women. He was barely conscious and the part of him that was aware was lost in delirium. He muttered words in a language that neither of them understood but he echoed one name, over and over again. Tara. Liselle looked scared and somewhat jealous when the warrior first called the name. There was so much longing in the call as he yelled it at the top of his longs; so much sadness in the tears that rolled down across his cheeks; so much hopelessness in his sobs. Erin did not doubt that this person was the reason Mercyn had set out on this quest to begin with.

It was soon obvious that Liselle would be unable to carry the weight herself. When Mercyn's bulk threatened to overburden the girl, Erin was forced to take hold of the other side of the man and take half his weight on herself. It was also soon apparent to the two women that they could not continue on this way. But they trudged on as the time stretched out and the Avenue continued on into darkness.

They were about at their limit when they could suddenly see a light shining in the distance. It appeared suddenly, far in the distance, and it did not move, only sat there. The light never flickered either, just cut brightly through the darkness. Liselle and Erin exchanged looks, wondering what that light meant. Liselle shifted the weight of the now comatose warrior and shrugged her shoulders. They really had no choice.

Hope now strengthened the women and they were able to increase their pace. As they approached the light the Avenue began to widen. The women traced a direct path towards the light and were forced to move away from the side of the tunnel. The darkness then seemed to surround them, stranding them in a tiny island of light in the giant sea of darkness, with only the light ahead to guide them.

Finally, the Avenue abruptly ended in an immense cave. The two women gasped at the tableau before them. They stood on a ledge overlooking a vast, underground city. The Avenue split to either side, sloping down to the floor of the great cave a hundred feet below and then meeting again directly below the two women. The Avenue then split the city, running straight until it split again, circling a tall, white tower and then meeting again to proceed into the darkness. It was from this tower that the light sprang. The light from the tower played dimly across the city below, hiding as much as it revealed. Amidst the shadows the women could see the forms of buildings and fountains, plazas and towers, markets and temples. None of the buildings reached the height of the ledge and none were even half the height of the white tower. No lights shined from any of the buildings, no sounds echoed through the cave and nothing moved in the shadows.

They paused only briefly to take in the scene of the city before they started to descend to the city, their burgeoning hope suddenly joined by a deep foreboding of the deserted city. Neither of them wanted to approach the tower, but they had no choice. The city itself seemed extremely well preserved. Everything was made of stone and none of the buildings had doors or windows, merely openings. The Avenue was cobbled, each stone carved with a strange rune. The several side roads that split away were similarly cobbled, though they held no runes. Statues stood proudly, dotting the sides of the Avenue in a regular pattern. They stopped long enough to stare at one of the statues, seeing the image of a young man dressed in a long robe, standing on a pedestal, a scroll clutched high in the air and a shout of exaltation lighting his face. Another statue revealed a woman similarly garbed but with a wreath encircling her head. She held a sword point down into the pedestal and glared defiantly back at the trio. A fountain was elaborately carved with a coiled dragon. The eyes of the dragon reflected red when it caught the light of their torch. Compared to the ornate quality of the statues and the fountains, the buildings seemed drab and lacked even the smallest adornment. Everything seemed new, as if it was built yesterday and then abandoned.

The white tower was the only building with a door. A large oaken door, the only wood they had seen in the city, stood slightly ajar, opening inward, the faintest light creeping through. They could see no windows on the tower, only the opening far above from which the mysterious light spilt. Like all the other buildings, the tower was very plain, seeming to be a column of solid marble rising into the sky.

The women hesitated when they reached the door. Rampant hope warred with caution inside their minds as they looked at each other. Finally, without words, Liselle shouldered Mercyn's entire weight and Erin unslung her bow. When the elf was ready Liselle reached out with her foot and pushed the door open.

The door opened into a round room that took up the entire bottom floor of the tower. The room was well lit, though the source was unclear. The walls were bare and the ceiling was high. Two soft leather chairs stood next to a bed. A small table stood next to the bed, platters of meat and bread and cheese stood next to two silver pitchers and three silver cups. They were the only furnishings in the room. Opposite the door a stairway curved around the wall and through a trapdoor in the ceiling. The trapdoor was open and a man stood at the top of the stairs. He was extremely thin and wore flowing white robes.

"Oh my, you are early," his voice was pitched high and disappointment coursed through his words. "I was just coming to get you."

The women didn't know what to do. They stood inside the door and stared as the man scampered down the stairs.

"Come in, come in. Everything has been made ready for you."

Chapter Five: Life Dreams

"Set him on the bed," the man hastened to the confused women. They stared at him dumbly as he approached. The entire scene confused Liselle and she was having a difficult time wrapping her mind around it. Erin, who had more exposure to the extraordinary, dismissed the contents of the room completely, focusing her distrust on the figure that scurried close.

The man's appearance did nothing to engender trust in either woman. He appeared human from a distance but as he approached, their doubts increased. He was taller than most humans were, taller even than most elves, though his thin build might indicate some relation to the Fair Folk. He was dressed in plain white robes that covered him from neck to ankle and stretched along his abnormally long arms. His head was extremely narrow and extremely long, leaving little room for features, and completely devoid of hair. His nose was small and hooked and his mouth was narrow and pursed. When he spoke his lips barely moved but the words came out like wind blowing through the trees. But it was his eyes that made him seem alien. Completely blue were the orbs, and without a pupil. Erin caught herself gazing into their depths and she could feel a force like the tidal pull of an ocean draw her deeper. Mercyn groaned and shifted in her grasp, startling her back to herself. The figure in white reached out to help steady the warrior. His fingers were as out of proportion as the rest of his body and Erin thought she caught sight of a sixth finger.

Before the man could touch Mercyn, Liselle stepped between them. "Who are you?"

The man in white stopped in his tracks, confused. He looked at Mercyn for a moment and then turned his gaze to Liselle. "What do you mean?"

Erin pulled back on Mercyn, the effect being to pull the entire trio a step back from the strange man. Something about this place was screaming for her to run.

"Who are you?" Liselle repeated.

The man furrowed his brows. "I am who you have come to see," his voice betrayed his confusion.

"I don't understand," Liselle looked at the man like he was crazy. She flinched back from him a little before continuing. "We saw your light and came looking for help. We didn't know you would be here."

A sudden smile erupted from the man's face. "Ah, I get it now. You are teasing poor Falindimar," he lifted one finger and waggled it at Liselle. "That is not very nice. You know I am not very well these days."

Liselle was quite convinced this man was mad and Erin was not sure that she disagreed. Liselle stumbled over her thoughts for a moment, unsure how to handle a lunatic.

"Luckily for me I can see through your joke," his laugh sounded like a high wheeze. He dug into the folds of his robes and then pulled out a folded piece of parchment. "See, I still have your letter."

Liselle ignored the proffered letter and shook her head. Her gaze was wide as she stepped back. Mercyn groaned as he was jostled. "But I can't read," the words were almost imploring as she stared at the piece of paper.

"Now you are really teasing poor Falindimar," he admonished the girl. He unfolded the pieced of paper and showed it to her. "Now we both know that that is your signature right there."

Liselle found her eyes drawn to lower corner of the paper, where one of the man's fingers tapped the page. The minute her eyes settled on the words everything became suddenly clear.

"Of course, how could I have forgotten," a smile replaced the look of caution. "Oh Falindimar, it is so good to see you again."

Erin instantly knew what had happened. Her initial reaction was to step away from the man but as she tried to move she found her muscles locked. Sensing the struggle, Falindimar turned his gaze on her. All traces of confusion and insanity were gone as he faced the elf.

"My dear, it is good to see you again. You look famished, perhaps you would like some food?" He waved his hand at the table laden with food. Erin, though, could not take her eyes from his.

"Oh my, that certainly looks good," Liselle exclaimed. "Let's lay him down and then we can eat."

"Yes, why don't you lay him down on the bed," his eyes still held the elf's.

Erin's mind screamed in rebellion, begging her body to react, but none of her muscles were willing to respond except for the violent clenching in her stomach.

The man in while stretched out one of his large hands and gently laid it on the elf's shoulder. "Here, let me help you."

The moment his hand touched her shoulder the screaming in her mind shut off. Warmth spread through her body, covering her in a sense of peace. His touch was gentle yet she could feel its strength. Gently he removed the wounded warrior from around her and guided him, along with Liselle, towards the bed. Erin stood rooted to the spot, even after he removed his hand. She was afraid that if she moved the warmth would go away.

Liselle and Falindimar laid Mercyn on the bed and then the man in white turned back to the elf. He waved her forward and indicated one of the chairs. "Come, come. Eat, rest. You look like you could use it," his words were honey and they flowed through her body, causing a shiver to run up her spine.

As if reacting to his words, the elf felt a wave of fatigue and hunger surge through her body. The smells that wafted from the table were pleasant and appealing eliciting a rumble from her stomach. Liselle had already sat at one of the chairs and had helped herself to a chunk of roast beef. She dipped it in a small bowl of gravy and then sighed in pleasure. The elf could stand it no longer and rushed to take the second chair. Greedily she snatched a piece of bread and a hunk of cheese, quickly stuffing them into her mouth.

Falindimar stood back from the trio and watched the two women dig into the food. Silently he chuckled and then he waved his hand. Instantly the two women slipped back into their chairs, asleep. Falindimar waved his hand again and suddenly their chairs were beds and the women were lying flat on their backs.

"Sleep, my beautiful ones," he murmured to the sleeping forms. "Sleep and dream and let us see what presents you brought me."

Liselle was a little girl and she sat in the middle of her parents small home. The house was barely more than a shack. The family could barely afford more on the money her mother made occasionally sewing a dress for the Countess or one of the other ladies in the village. Her father had lost his job at the quarry when a wagonload of marble had crashed onto his leg. He had recovered enough to walk but the quarry did not want him back, especially considering it was his drunkenness that had caused the accident. He had tried several other jobs but could hold nothing regular. Now he just spent his days brewing some foul substance in his still and imbibing it until he passed out.

The house had three rooms, a large room where the family ate and her brothers slept, a smaller room where her parents slept, and the tiny room where she slept. The main room also contained the stove and the pantry where their meager food supplies were kept. The only furniture was six sturdy wooden chairs, a table, and an old, ratty cushioned chair. Her father loved the chair. He would point it at the open door and sit for hours, watching the life of the village and drinking himself to oblivion. Liselle didn't know where the chair had come from. Certainly it was quite expensive when it was new and the family could never have afforded it so she doubted they had bought it. All she knew was that the chair had always been there as long as she could remember. The only other pieces of furniture in the family owned were the bed and the small armoire in her parent's room and the tiny bed of her own in her room. Her brothers slept on mats of straw that had been set up in the corner of the common room. Liselle's room was little more than a closet, with the bed taking up most of the space, but her mother had insisted that she, as the only girl, be given a room to herself. Liselle treasured the privacy of her little room.

Liselle loved her mother. Her earliest memories were of the warmth of her mother's arms. She remembered her mother holding her and banishing the remnants of an awful nightmare. She remembered her mother tending her horribly scraped knee. She remembered her mother lecturing her brothers for teasing their little sister. Her mother had always told her she was special. The other children in the village teased her because her family was so poor. She would run home crying to her mother who would always laugh and tell her how the others were just jealous because she was so special. She loved her mother.

On this night the family was just settling into supper, a stew of turnips and a meat that Liselle could not identify, when the yelling started. At first it was just a lone woman's scream; a scream of terror. It was soon joined by another shout, this one in anger. Then another woman screamed, accompanied by a crash and a boom. Liselle and her family just looked at each other, fear evident on the faces of the children. The noises outside grew in volume as more voices were added. A loud whoosh could be heard and then light blossomed in the night as someone's home caught fire, casting flickering shadows through the window of Liselle's tiny shack.

"Hodden, go see what it is," her mother seemed calm as she stood and collected her children into the circle of her arms. She glared at Liselle's father as he just sat silently at the table, his head bowed, listening to the screaming.

The noise was horrible and Liselle began to cry. Her mother pulled her closer and Liselle pressed her head against her mother's stomach. "Fine, if you are too much of a coward, I will look."

She gently disengaged her crying daughter and admonished her sons to remain still. She glared one more time at her husband and then marched over to the window. She peeked through and watched as carnage ensued in the vision. She gasped and covered her mouth and then looked away. She ran back to her children and fell to her knees. She wrapped them in her arms and pulled them in tight.

The laughter of men joined the screaming of the villagers. More flames lit the night and more women screamed. Suddenly someone was pounding on the door. The sound caused them all to jump, even their father. The family stood still, unsure how to respond. The pounding on the door brought the terror of the night to their very home and no one wanted to let it in.

"Please help me! Please!" a woman's voice, tears mixing with horror, screamed through the door as the pounding returned. Liselle's mother looked at her father, who refused to meet her eyes.

"Help me," desperation filled the voice as her body slumped against the door. Her voice lost all its strength as her tears overwhelmed her. "Help me."

Liselle's mother suddenly stood and walked over to the door. Without hesitation, she pulled open the door and revealed the village's nightmare to her family. The woman sat against the door, crying. Liselle recognized her as the woman who lived next door. Her son was one of the girl's primary rivals. He would always push her to the ground and make fun of her clothes. Whenever her mother would speak to the neighbor about her son, the woman would only shake her head and act like it was all Liselle's fault. Now the woman sat outside their door, crying and begging for their help. The woman looked up when the door opened, hope blossoming on her face. Liselle's mother bent down and gave the woman a hug.

Liselle could see past the two women and had a good view of the village. Men swarmed everywhere, light from the fires dancing off pieces of metal that adorned their bodies. The men laughed and dove in and out of the shadows, chasing the villagers before them. Some of the men rode horses, the great beasts clattering through the village and running over the villagers as they fled. One of the men saw the two women at the open door of the shack and stepped towards them. He was dark and swarthy, tarnished mail clung to his chest and a savage, curved sword was clutched in his fist. Liselle wanted to scream as the man approached but terror froze the muscles of her throat. Her mother didn't see the man as she hustled the neighbor woman to her feet. When she did finally spot him it was too late, he was too close.

The man laughed as the neighbor woman screamed. She scrambled away from Liselle's mother and tried to dart past the man. He laughed again and grabbed her by the hair as she passed. With a brutal tug he yanked her into his embrace. He kissed her obscenely and then licked the side of her face with his vile tongue. The woman's screams were cut short as the man's sword blossomed from the center of her back. Her body fell limp and the man pushed it free from his blade, allowing it to collapse into a heap at his feet. He smiled evilly at Liselle's mother who had witnessed the entire scene in shock.

Rousing herself, Liselle's mother tried to slam the door in the man's face. Another laugh escaped his lips as he caught the closing portal and kicked it open, sending her mother sprawling. Liselle screamed for her father to do something as the man swept into their shack but he had hidden under the table and curled into a ball, crying. Liselle looked to her brothers but they were as scared as she was. The invader's lips curled into a cruel smile as he watched the family cower. Then he bent and grabbed her mother's hair, pulling her to her feet.

"My, my, aren't we blessed," the man's hungry gaze ran up the length of her body, pausing on her heaving chest. He adjusted his grasp and grabbed the neck of her dress, tearing it down the front. Her mother's breasts spilled out, white as milk and as large as melons, each topped with a small, pink nipple. The man laughed again and then he brought his mouth to one of the nipples. He bit cruelly into the soft flesh and then flicked at the hard bud with his tongue. Her mother cried in pain as his mouth surrounded the entire nipple and he sucked savagely.

The man stopped ravaging her mother and a victorious grin split his face as he caught the little girl's eyes. Her mother threatened to squirm away from the man's grip but he pulled her closer with a vicious jerk, knocking the air from the woman's lungs. His tongue lashed out again, sweeping a swath along the woman's cheek. He pressed his lips against her heaving mouth and thrust his tongue cruelly into her mouth. Liselle watched, helpless with fear, as her mother struggled weakly in her attackers arms. A horn sounded in the village and the clash of metal against metal echoed in the night. Cursing the man broke the kiss and looked out the door. He snarled and then pushed the woman against the wall. He glanced at the family and spared a sneer for the man who cringed beneath the table. When his gaze settled on Liselle, a different kind of smile lit his face. Another blast from the horn echoed through the night and the man took a halting glance over his shoulder. He looked back at the girl, avarice in his eyes. He took a step towards her but went no further as Liselle's mother hurled herself at the man, her fingers curled into claws and scratching at his eyes. The man threw her away from him, sending her crashing into the wall where she slid to the floor in a heap. Blood seeped from a gash on the side of his face and he swore as he wiped at the blood on his cheek.

Liselle screamed as the man stepped towards the fallen woman, his sword poised to strike. Her scream turned to whimpering hysteria as his sword slid home, thrusting through her heart. Her mother gurgled once and then blood flowed from her mouth as her life drifted away. The sounds of combat were louder now and the man stepped towards the door. He paused and looked back one final time. He blew the little girl a kiss and then fled into the night.

 Liselle was older now. Her mother had been dead for several years and the family had drifted even deeper into poverty. Her eldest brother had started working at the quarry and his money helped, but her drunkard father had gambled most of it away and had drunk away the rest. Her brother had once tried to hide the money from him but her father beat him so bad that he could not walk for days. He nearly lost his job then, but he begged and they let him stay on, at a reduced wage. Her other brothers also helped where they could. They were each old enough for an apprenticeship somewhere but no one wanted to deal with the family. Liselle suspected it was because they thought their father's disgrace was contagious. She supposed they might be right, as even now her brother was beginning to join their father during his evening binges.

She had assumed most of the duties that her mother formerly handled. She cooked and cleaned, she shopped and mended. She provided the womanly touch that every home needed though her efforts often went for naught as her father would quickly undo most of her work in a drunken fancy. She was shopping for some cloth when her life changed. Her father had torn her elder brother's only shirt the night previous. He had beaten the boy again for some imagined slight. He often beat his sons but he never touched his daughter. He would be overcome in a mindless rage but when he saw Liselle, all the anger would disappear and he would fling himself around the girl, sobbing into her shoulder and chanting her mother's name.

She had just purchased a swath of ugly gray cloth and was carrying it home when the Count's procession rode into the village. Liselle had seen him many times before, as he would often descend from his great castle and tour the villages of his lands. He was about the same age as her father but where the years of drinking had left her father little more than a husk, the Count was still able-bodied and fit. His black hair was just barely dusted with gray and his face was only slightly lined by the stresses of age. The count's face was sharp and his eyes were small and dark, yet they seemed to catch the eye of every villager. He was dressed in golden mail and an ornate sword decorated the side of his saddle. He was accompanied by a guard of ten men, each dressed resplendently in shining mail and astride huge, brown horses, each alike, lances flying the count's pennant, a golden lion on a field of red. On one side of the Count his son rode. He was a younger image of the older man. He was perhaps the age of Liselle's oldest brother though he carried himself with an arrogance above his years. He wore no mail, though his black clothes were fine beyond anything that the villagers possessed. He seemed bored with the whole procession and stared glumly at the sky. On the other side of the count rode his wife, a beautiful woman who instantly reminded Liselle of her mother. Stately, her brown hair made up into an elaborate coiffure and the green of her satin gown rippling like fire in the afternoon sun, the woman would bestow a nod and an occasional smile on everyone who met her eyes.

Liselle left the spinner's shop just as the procession passed. She looked up and found her eyes locked with the Countess'. The older woman smiled and then looked at the girl appraisingly. She nodded, more to herself than to Liselle, and leaned over to whisper something to her husband. The Count jerked his head around to find the girl and then called for his guards to stop. He leaned back in his saddle and said something to a man who rode behind him. The man got down from his horse and stepped over to the stunned girl. He was young, though not as young as the Count's son, and his hair was golden yellow, a rare color in this land. He moved with grace and his supple body seemed to flow as he moved. Liselle reckoned him the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

"My lady," Liselle flinched at the inappropriate title but relaxed when she heard no mocking in his voice. "The Count wishes you to guide him to your domicile."

Liselle was at a loss. She thought herself in some strange dream or even a nightmare. She looked around at the other villagers who had all halted to watch. One look at their faces revealed that they were as surprised as she was.

"Girl? Are you well?" The man laid a hand on her shoulder and shook her slightly. His voice did not seem concerned, merely impatient.

Liselle shook her head. She was still incapable of words.

"Are you dumb?" Now he was worried, though she doubted it was for her.

She shook her head again and then forced words from her throat. "N-no, my lord."

A smile lit up his face and Liselle thought she was staring at an angel. "Good. Let's clear up some things. First, I am not a lord. You can call me Garin. Secondly, you had best show us where you live and quickly. The Count is not a patient man."

Liselle did as he said and soon the procession was before their tiny shack. She looked with despair at the hovel. It was so tiny and so incredibly dirty. She was ashamed to admit that this was her home. She was sure that the Count would just turn around and leave. Her fears seemed founded when she turned back to the Count and the Countess. They were arguing quietly about something and then she cut him off with a gesture of her hand. He shook his head and nodded at Garin.

The golden man smiled again at the girl. "Let us meet your parents."

Her father was sitting in his accustomed spot, in his old chair, and with the door open. He had slipped into a semi-conscious stupor and had not noticed the group stop before his house. Now, as Garin and Liselle stepped inside, he seemed to sense their presence and wrestled himself awake. He glared at the Count's servant. "What do you want?" He growled.

"Good day, sir," Garin bowed, accounting her father more authority than he deserved. "The Count has sent me to inquire as to the availability of your daughter. He would like to employ her as a handmaid for his wife, the Countess."

Liselle was as surprised as her father. Instant joy threatened to spring from her chest as she considered the offer. She could leave this place. She could leave the horrible life of caring for her drunken and cruel father. She could leave the horrible memories of the night her mother died. Her mother had always told her she was special and the Countess must have seen it, too. Her hope was dashed as her father barked a harsh, hacking laugh. "You can't have the little tramp. She is mine."

"There will, of course, be some recompense for her services," Garin offered.

Her father's gaze had wandered to her face. Tears were forming in the corners of his eyes as they glazed over. Liselle felt him looking more through her than at her. Softly he whispered her mother's name. He seemed oblivious to the golden-haired man and then he suddenly snapped back to attention, all emotions erased.

"How much?" His voice was sly and filled with greed.

"Ten gold per month."

His jaw dropped and he let out a shrill whoop. "You just bought yourself a whore, my boy. Tell the lord Count that he can mate her with his dogs if he wishes, just as long as the gold keeps coming." He laughed aloud, hacking coughs and streaking tears marring his hysterical fit.

Garin stepped back in distaste and gave the girl a pitying look and then a reassuring smile. He turned and walked outside. Liselle followed and had a hard time concealing the happiness that threatened to explode from inside her. Garin related the news to the Count and the Countess. He turned back to the girl one last time before climbing astride his horse. "We will send for you on the morrow."

The Countess smiled benignly at her and Liselle could not contain the smile that crept to her lips. Her joy grew to overwhelming proportions but then she caught sight of the Count's son. Her smile faded away and a ball of fear grew in her stomach as she met his cruel and avaricious gaze.

* * * * *

Liselle joined the Count's court two days later. Instantly she was overwhelmed by the opulence of the castle. She never knew anything but being poor and this place blew away her wildest dreams. She had always envied the blacksmith and the quarrymaster for their large houses and their wealth, but the Count was as far beyond them as they were beyond her old life. Her first day she was installed as the Countess' personal maid. She ran errands for the Countess and sat next to her while she sewed peacefully in her solar. When the Countess entertained, Liselle was always at her shoulder, ready to cater to her lady's needs as well as those of her guests. The Countess had other maids and other servants, but none of them were as close to the Lady as was she. Liselle did not know enough about the life of a noble to remark on this peculiarity.

She lived at the castle, in a room next to the Countess'. Though the size of a closet by the standards of the castle, it was nearly as large as the common room in her father's house. In addition to a bed, she had an armoire to herself and she had clothes, all in the form of her simple uniform, but finer and in greater quantity than she could ever have imagined. Even the uniform, a simple blue dress that scooped low to display a portion of her breasts, was far nicer and far more vibrant than the clothes she had brought to the castle. But her prized possession was a tiny mirror. On her first day, the Countess had seen Liselle wistfully stare at the large, full-size mirror in her room. The next day, a small, hand-held mirror of burnished silver was on her bed when she finally returned to her room. She was astonished at the wealth of the gift but she prized it for what it was more than ever. She would stay awake late at night, staring into the mirror by the light of the candle. She could see the echoes of her mother in her reflection and she caressed those ghostly images, cradling them in her heart and remembering the love of her mother.

She soon learned to avoid the Count's son. Lord Darren always sneered at her, his face a mixture of contempt and lust. His eyes made her nervous. Constantly they roamed over her body, often focusing on her breasts. Whenever they reached her face, the sneer would deepen and he would dismiss her presence with a sniff. Liselle could not abide his looks. Something deep down inside the boy made her remember the man who had killed her mother. Frequently she would flee the young lord and retire to her room. She would take up her mirror and conjure the images of her mother and try to banish the dirty feelings that crawled across her skin.

She was a member of the Countess' entourage for two weeks when things changed. At first the change was subtle, but after that day, everything was different.

"My dear," the Countess addressed Liselle. They were alone in the lady's solar. The Countess was sewing a golden lion into a red blanket and she never looked up from her task. Liselle sat just behind her and to her side, holding spools of golden thread. "Are you a virgin?"

Liselle was taken aback by the question, but she had been taught enough manners that she answered the Countess right away. The beautiful woman had become like another mother to the young girl and, despite her shock at the question, she felt little shame in responding. "Yes, my lady, I am."

"Good. We must be sure you stay that way. Whatever happens," the Countess still never looked up at the girl. "A lady must stay a virgin until she is married."

Nothing else was said on the matter the rest of the day and Liselle soon put the question aside. The next day, though, the Countess surprised the girl again. They were again sitting in her solar, though there was no blanket and no thread to be seen.

"Life can be so lonely sometimes," the Countess began with a sigh. "I am glad I have you to talk to. This castle can be so dreary."

Liselle was glad at the Countess' words. She had begun to think of the castle as home and she enjoyed the company of the Countess.

"Liselle, have you ever kissed a boy?"

A little red colored the girl's cheeks as she stared at her hands that rested in her lap. She shook her head.

"Look at me, pretty one."

Liselle raised her head and stared into the eyes of the Countess. She really was beautiful. Her brown hair was shiny and long and framed a thin and fragile face. Her nose was small and set above a full set of luscious lips. Her eyes were deep pools of green. Liselle saw a flicker of something in the intensity of those eyes. Something she had not seen before. Something that made her a little nervous.

"Child, you are beautiful," the Countess echoed the girl's thoughts. She reached out and caressed Liselle's jaw with the tips of her fingers. "Kiss me, Liselle."

The girl hesitated at the lady's command. Perhaps she had been mistaken at what she heard. The Countess moved her head closer to the girl's, her eyes glazed over with desire and half-closed. Liselle felt like a trapped hare. She wanted to get up and run but she was afraid to disappoint her mistress.

When the lady's warm lips met hers, Liselle sat still, not knowing how to respond. The Countess pressed likely against the girl's lips for only a moment and then drew slightly back, a couple inches separating the two. "You smell so good," she whispered to the girl.

The Countess lifted the girl's neck and pressed her lips against the soft spot where the throat joins the jaw. Softly her tongue danced out and tickled the soft flesh, eliciting a chill to run through the girl. The lady began to kiss up the side of the girl's jaw, each time the warmth of her breath and the moistness of her lips sensuously caressing the tender skin. When she reached the lobe of her ear, the grasped the bobbing appendage between her lips and sucked it gently into her mouth. A gasp escaped Liselle's lips as the intensity of the sensations dug into her body. The girl felt the rising of her desire, like a growing flame in her breast. When the Countess returned her lips to the girl's own, Liselle found herself responding. The Countess pried apart the girl's lips and slid her tongue into the girl's mouth. Liselle was soon absorbed in the intensity of the kiss and she lost all sense of time and place. When the lady broke the kiss and sat back, Liselle suddenly felt like a part of her was missing. The desire in her heart was overwhelming and it suddenly had no place to go. That did not last long.

"Liselle," the Countess had sat back in her chair, her eyes closed and her chest heaving. Her words were little more than a whisper. The Countess gathered the skirts of her beautiful blue gown and pulled them up around her thighs. "I need you. Kiss me here."

The Countess's hand had slid between her legs and Liselle could see two fingers slide between the lips of her sex. They slid in to the knuckle and then the Countess pulled them out, sticking them into her mouth and sucking them clean of her own juices. Liselle was not sure what was expected of her. She stared at the clean-shaven sex of her mistress. She could clearly see the lips of her womanhood and the small pink bud that rested above them. The Countess's fingers soon returned to her crotch and began to caress that bud.

"Kneel before me, girl," the lady gasped as her fingers rubbed against her tender parts. Liselle felt her body respond to the woman's urgings and she found herself on her knees, facing the spread legs of her mistress. She could feel the warmth that emanated from the woman's sex and the smell was not unpleasant. "Kiss me."

Liselle slowly leaned forward and kissed the exposed part of the woman's stomach.

"Lower," hissed the lady.

Liselle moved her face lower and kissed just above the exposed clitoris of her mistress. The Countess shuddered at the touch of her lips and something stirred deep inside the girl, responding to her lady's pleasure. She kissed again, softly pressing her lips against the tiny nub. Taking her cue from the lady's attentions to her ear, Liselle gently sucked on the clitoris, pulling it into her mouth.

"Your tongue. Use your tongue."

The girl flicked against the clitoris that was held in her mouth, the tip gently caressing the sensitive skin. Another shudder racked the Countess, accompanied by a jerk and a gasp of pain. Liselle quickly released the clitoris, afraid she had hurt her, but he Countess instead moaned in frustration.

"Lick me, girl. Lick me," the Countess' voice was commanding, frustration mixing with desire to spur the girl into action. Liselle's tongue darted out of her mouth and licked at the hidden treasure. She repeated the action when the Countess moaned, this time repeating the gesture almost immediately. Creativity overtook her and she swirled her tongue in a circle around the clitoris, bathing it in her saliva. She tucked the tip of her tongue under the hood of protective skin and pressed before slowly pulling her tongue back into her mouth. Another tremor shook through the Countess' body.

"Give my your fingers," more whispered instructions from the enraptured lady.

Liselle brought her fingers to the slick lips of the lady's vagina. She played in the wetness for a moment, twirling the tip of one finger along the length of her lips. Then she slowly slid the finger inside her. Warmth enveloped her finger as it was surrounded by the softness of her womanhood. She pushed the finger in until it was buried deep inside, then she pulled it back out. A second finger joined the first as it slid back in. Now she could feel the muscles trembling just beyond those warm, soft walls. She slid the fingers all the way in. Curling her fingers ever slow slightly, Liselle began to caress her the walls of her sex. Darkness enveloped the girl as the Countess' skirts were thrown back over her head. She pulled back from between the woman's legs as the skirts settled but the lady's hand, pressing from outside the skirts, pushed her mouth back into place. A second hand joined the first as they pressed her face hard against her groin. Liselle found it was all she could do to breathe as the woman's hips humped against her face. The pressure from hands relented a tiny bit and Liselle found she could breather a little easier. Her fingers still buried deep in the lady's warmth, the girl's tongue flickered out again and caressed the lady's clitoris, this time repeating the action in an ever-quickening pace.

Anyone who walked in at that moment might have believed the Countess was asleep. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed and she didn't move. Only when they saw the slight movements beneath the lady's skirts and the tiny feet that peeked out between the lady's own would they begin to guess the truth. The Countess held tightly to the back of the girl's head, her hips lifting off her chair and shifting beneath the ministrations of Liselle's thrashing tongue. The lady's muscles were clenched in desire and her delicious lips were pressed into a thin line.

Beneath the skirts Liselle was beginning to get horribly hot. Sweat beaded on her brow and dripped onto the delicate skin of the lady's thighs. Saliva dripped from her mouth and mixed with the lady's juices and dripped down to form a wet pool on the chair. Liselle's breathing became more difficult and her jaw began to hurt, but she could feel the tension in her mistress' muscles and she could sense the impending release that fast approached and she willed her tongue to continue.

When the lady's orgasm crashed over her body, her muscles all suddenly went lax, except for those that pulsed around the fingers that were buried deep inside of her. Liselle could feel the release and she felt the warmth of fluid seep along her hand and onto the chair. The Countess heaved for a moment, struggling to breathe and then she settled down, her breath's heavy and her voice a soft purr.

Liselle slowly pulled herself free of the skirts and dizzily climbed to her feet.

The Countess opened her eyes and watched the girl wipe the juices from her chin. "Oh my darling, you are a wonder."

From that day forward Liselle was called upon to service the countess every day, often times twice and sometimes even three times or four. Most of the time it consisted only of Liselle sliding beneath the lady's skirts and bringing the Countess to orgasm. This was the way the lady preferred it. It aroused her to have the young girl lick her sex while both remained fully clothed. At first, they only did it in the solar, with no one around, but once they copulated in the sheltering shade of the gardens, the Countess laying on her back in the grass. Another time they did it in the library, the lady standing with her back against the bookshelf, her feet apart and the girl buried beneath her skirts.

As the weeks passed the Countess became more daring and the circumstances changed. Once, when several other maids had joined them to help embroider a banner for the Count, the Countess gave Liselle the look that had become their silent signal. Liselle looked at the other women in the room, her face coloring a deep shade of red. She looked back at the Countess, imploring her to change her mind, but the desire etched in the woman's face would brook know mercy on this day.

Ashamed, Liselle fell to her knees. One of the maids gasped in shock as the girl crawled beneath the Countess' skirts. That gasp came again when the lady began to tremble beneath her servant's wet tongue. Liselle soon buried her shame and concentrated on bringing the woman to climax. She brought out all her tricks, sliding her tongue deep inside the woman's sex and even sliding it around the puckered hole of her anus. Two fingers soon replaced her tongue and they slid between the tight muscles of her rear entrance. Liselle moved her tongue to the lady's clitoris and simultaneously slid her thumb between the lips of the Countess' sex. Her tongue worked its magic and, combined with the sensations of her probing fingers, soon brought the lady to orgasm. When Liselle withdrew her head from beneath the skirts, none of the maids would meet her eyes, but Liselle noticed that more than one was flushed and breathing a little heavy. From that day on Liselle frequently had an audience.

The pleasure was not all one-sided. Liselle was allowed to finger her own sex while she pleasured the Countess and she would often pleasure herself at night in her own room. The Countess also had a slight obsession with the girl's nubile breasts. Sometimes the Countess would have Liselle stand next to her, the girl's dress around her waist and she would suck on her delicate nipples and her fingers finding their way beneath the skirt and slide into her sex and caress her delicate clitoris. Three or four times the Countess had even returned the favor of her oral services. The first time was the most memorable as it was the first time the Countess had shaved the girl's sex, leaving it as bare as a child's. Liselle had stood in the Countess' copper tub, holding on dearly to a high-backed chair, one leg wrapped around the lady's shoulders while the Countess' tongue played an elegant dance along her skin. For a long time she remembered that as her most powerful orgasm. Through it all, though, the Countess was careful that the girl remained a virgin. Nothing was ever allowed to threaten her maidenhead.

Liselle had been with the Countess for nearly six months when her mistress received a strange package. A light in her eyes, the lady dismissed all her servants except for Liselle. The maids passed her a look that fluctuated between sympathy and envy. Both emotions left the girl feeling slightly soiled. The Countess didn't notice the looks, she never did, but now her attention was focused on the small package.

When they were alone she smiled at the girl. "I have a surprise for you, Liselle."

She tore open the package and pulled out a black object about nine inches long and about two inches in width. It was shaped like a candle but it was made of leather and a belt was attached to it.

The Countess showed the object to her servant. "Do you know what this is, Liselle?"

Liselle had seen her brothers naked when she was younger and she recognized the shape of the object immediately, though it was much larger than any she had seen. She nodded quietly to her mistress.

The lady's smile caressed the girl. Liselle could see the desire building inside her mistress. The Countess stood and loosened her gown, letting it drop to the ground. The woman was still breathtaking, despite the depredations of age. Her breasts were full and held only the hint of sag. Her waist was thin and her hips only showed the trace of fullness associated with the birth of a child. Her legs showed hints of the softness of her life, as the skin was smoothed and unmarred by the bulge of muscles. Liselle had seen her mistress naked many times and each time it kindled a tiny flame of desire within her. This time was no different, but the specter of the strange object created an unease that nestled in her belly.

"Help me put it on, Liselle."

The girl picked up the object and, kneeling before her, fitted it around the lady's waist. It was more of a harness than a belt. As well as the straps that ran around the lady's hips, another strap ran between her legs and snapped tightly to the other strap. This center strap was made of softer leather than the rest and soft, tiny ridges lined the inside of the strap. When it was put on, the ridges pressed against the woman's clitoris and any movements caused it to caress the sensitive bud.

Liselle sat back on her heels and stared up at her mistress when the belt was fastened, waiting for instructions. "Put it in your mouth."

The girl obediently wrapped her lips around the tip of the leather object. She had to stretch her small mouth wide to put encompass than the barest tip. The Countess pushed lightly against the back of the girl's head, encouraging it to go deeper. The lady shuddered as the pressure of the girl's mouth caused the belt to shift against her clitoris.

"Now release all but the tip. Good girl. Now take it in again. Oh, that's good. That is so good."

Liselle slowly bobbed on the end of the leather penis, each motion pushing the harness to rub against her mistress' clitoris.

"Imagine, girl," the Countess whispered. "Imagine it is Garin you have in your mouth. Imagine it is him you are pleasuring." Liselle stopped, her mouth wrapped around the object, as soon as she heard her mistress say the name of the Count's manservant. The Countess laughed at the shocked look on the girl's face. "Oh, I have seen you mooning after the man. Always blushing when he is near. If I didn't know you loved me so much, I might even be jealous."

"Come now, girl," the lady sat down in her chair, dislodging the fake cock from the girl's mouth. "Like I said, imagine it is Garin you are pleasuring now."

Liselle slid it back into her mouth and she did imagine that it was Garin's cock that her lips were wrapped around. She imagined it was his body that tensed as she slowly bobbed her head up and down, swirling her tongue around the staff of the leather penis. She imagined that it was his groans that filled the room as she increased her pace, now taking almost half of the object into her mouth. She could feel the tip hit the back of her throat each time, occasionally forcing her to stifle a gag. She continued for several minutes before a gasping Countess lifted her head off the leather cock. The Countess stood and bent the girl over the side of the chair. The lady stood behind her servant and lifted her skirts. She gently rubbed the tip of her cock along the lips of the girl's sex.

"My lady," Liselle gasped. "I am still a virgin."

The Countess laughed. "And you will stay that way, my dear, at least in the way that counts."

The cock was now wet with the mixture of the girl's juices and her saliva. The Countess reached down with one hand and spread the girl's cheeks, exposing her tight pucker. The other hand guided the wet tip of the cock to the entrance to the girl's rectum. Slowly, the Countess pushed forwards, pressing the tip against the tight opening.

Liselle grunted in pain and fear as the tip of the leather cock penetrated slightly into the tight ring of muscles. Fear made her muscles clench tighter and push the cock back out.

"Relax," the Countess whispered to the girl. "Relax your muscles. Relax."

Liselle tried to obey but when the head of the cock penetrated her sphincter, she felt a her flesh tear and pain shot through her body, shattering her concentration and causing her muscles to clamp down tight on the intruder, halting its advance. Liselle could hear the Countess' breathing, heavy with desire, as she pulled the cock back a half an inch but not enough to dislodge the tip. Slowly she pushed it back in, a gasp escaping her lips as the pressure of her thrust rebounded through the center strap. This time she gained almost another inch, now there were two inches of the leather cock buried in the girl's ass.

Pain still shot through the girl's body, accompanied by an unpleasant warmth that spread through her rectum. When the Countess again pulled back and then slowly thrust forward, Liselle could not escape the tiny cry of pain that escaped her lips. The Countess seemed oblivious to the girl's pain. Her passion had built and the only sensations that penetrated the haze were the tiny shocks of pleasure that ran through her clitoris with each thrust. She did not hear the girl's tears as the force and the speed of her thrusts increased. In a matter of moments she was lost in the throws of her first climax.

Tears poured from Liselle's eyes as the Countess began to furiously pound into the girl's ass. Only half the cock entered but Liselle felt like she was being ripped in half. The sickly warmth had stayed and the tearing sensations continued as the Countess pounded away, lost in her own world as orgasm after orgasm rolled across her body, oblivious to the cries of the girl beneath her.

One maid, hearing the pained cries of the girl stuck her head in the room to make sure everyone was all right. What she saw was Liselle bent over the arm of a chair and her skirts piled on her back, with her naked mistress rapidly pounding the leather cock into her anus. The maid saw the ecstasy contorting the Countess' face and promptly left the room, despite the pain evident in the girl's cries.

Eventually the Countess stopped and withdrew the cock from the girl's rectum. Blood covered the object and more flowed from the violated orifice. Liselle, no longer supported by the Countess' thrusting, collapsed into a crying heap onto the floor. The Countess had never been so cruel before and the girl cried from the loss of her naivete as much as the pain.

The Countess recalled herself after a couple minutes and she finally seemed to register the girl on the floor, the blood seeping from her bottom. Guilt overcame the woman and she gathered the girl into her arms.

"Oh my darling, what have I done?" she cradled the girl's head against her chest and caressed her soft hair. "I am sorry. I am so sorry."

Liselle cried into the Countess' naked breasts, sobs wracking her body as the woman apologized over and over again. Eventually Liselle forgave her and the pain subsided, but it was never quite the same between the two of them again.